Warnings: mentions of abuse, abandonment, angst, slight fluff, eventual smut, possible character death, violence, bullying, self doubt, self pity.
Summary: Growing up in an all girls Orphanage during the 1940's was hard. I grew up faster than ! needed to, becoming a protector to my younger sisters from the quiet cruelty than ran the home. Magic came a lot easier to me. By the time of my final year at hogwarts, I carry the weight of abandonment and guilt. For constantly leaving my sisters with that awful women. But what happens when my sevenths year at hogwarts brings me a terrible realisation. One that will change who I am forever.
After camping in my dorm for the rest of the day with no assignments due to the fact that school had yet to start, I was bored. The view from my window was only so fascinating for a certain amount of time, and I had been people watching for a while now.
It was about half an hour before dinner began, and I had found myself wandering down to the greenhouse. My fingers unconsciously wander up to play with the gold locket hanging from my neck, and the small dullness from this morning had simmered down enough for me to truly feel it. The cool feel of the metal stood out against the warmth of my body, yet it calmed me. And it gave me a distraction.
The corridors were quieter now than they had been at lunch, most students still tucked away in their common rooms or lingering outside while the evening light lasted. My footsteps echoed softly through the stone passageways, steady and unhurried.
I found myself matching my breathing to the rhythm of them. Whenever my thoughts began to drift somewhere unpleasant, back to London, back to the girls, back to the humiliation of earlier, I touched the locket and felt myself pulled into the present again. It did not fix anything. It did not erase the ache sitting stubbornly in my chest. But it dulled the edges enough to bear.
As I neared the greenhouse corridor, the air changed. It carried the faint scent of damp earth, moss, and something sweet I could not name. The smell was grounding, rich and alive. I slowed without meaning to, already feeling lighter than I had all day. Greenhouses had always been easier than people. Plants asked for patience, not conversation. They drooped when neglected, flourished when cared for, and never once stared too long or expected me to fill a silence. As I took my first step into the plant home after several months, the warm air wrapped around me like a well-needed hug.
I like to begin a new set of personal plants at the start of every year, which reminds me of a fresh start and opportunities to grow. It's just the cycle of life, continuing all the time anew. We grow, and we wilt, and all you can do is look after yourself.
As I am tending to my plants, I hear soft footsteps echoing behind me, light and jolly. Before I even turned around, it was obvious who was making their way towards me. Spinning my head around, I smiled as I locked eyes with Luna Lovegood, my best friend.
Her bright, icy cold hair stands out against the warmth that Luna radiates; she brings that warmth everywhere she goes, even if sometimes people choose to ignore it. The spring in Luna's step gives her the effect that she's flying, so graceful and polite. I know I shouldn't, but I envy Luna's ability to see the best in anyone no matter what. I do try but some people just have no good in them, they interpret love and family wrong and there is nothing you can do.
The next thing I know, I am embraced in a warm and very much needed hug. The breath that I had been holding for a while now was finally released, and my whole body relaxed into her. I could feel her do the same, and we stood there together, basking in each other's presence after 7 long weeks being apart.
As soon as we parted, our eyes met, and we both burst out in laughter. a smile was brought onto my face, one that I had not seen for a while. It's hard to realise how much you can miss someone until you are reunited with them again. and that realisation, while all the while melancholic, is very fulfilling.
"Luna.." I said softly, taking her hands in mine and giving them a light squeeze.
She squeezed mine back, a couple of strands of her white hair falling in front of her face. We fell into a comfortable chatter, talking about how our summers were. mainly the positives of them, not wanting to dwell on the misfortune or the terror of the women that is Jean Munsch. Luna explained how she and her father went exploring all over England, finding magical creatures and documenting them. She talked about it for a while, and I sat - enjoying every word.
The thing about Luna was that she could make the strangest stories sound beautiful. She described mooncalves dancing through misty fields as if she had stepped into a dream. Her hands moved when she spoke, animated and soft, and every now and then she'd pause to smile to herself at a memory before continuing. Most people would probably brush her stories aside, laugh awkwardly, or simply stop listening altogether.
Because when Luna spoke, she spoke with complete sincerity. There was no performance in her, no desperation to impress anyone. She loved things fully and openly, even when the world treated her oddly for it. I admired that more than I could explain.
"And then father accidentally stepped in a fairy ring," she said thoughtfully. "We had to walk backwards for nearly ten minutes because he was convinced we'd be cursed otherwise."
I laughed quietly, shaking my head. "Did it work?"
"I think so," Luna replied seriously. "Although he did lose one of his shoes in a river shortly after, so perhaps not entirely."
I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt. Moments with Luna always felt easy. Like breathing. Like slipping into warm water after being cold for far too long.
It was only after a large grumble belowed in my stomach that we realised dinner had began fourty minitues ago. With a parting of both of our lips and a quick laugh, we hurriedly set out to the great hall. By the time we got there, it was practically empty, bar the few stray who like to eat alone. Some of them, sadly, were first years who had yet to make any friends. Luna and I sat down at the end of the Ravenclaw table, and with only ten minutes to spare, we dug into dinner.
After we managed to fill our bellies the best we could, Luna and I parted ways. Though it was only seven, Luna apologised and said she had important 'nargle' business to attend to. I nodded, and with a warm hug, she left.
Deciding not to go back to the greenhouse, I thought it might be beneficial to head to the library and do some reading on what will be on the curriculum this year. The walk was long and quiet. now even more so at the absence of Luna. The lights from the candles in the Hogwarts hallways lit the way for me, with it being later in the year, the days got shorter and light from the sun was pulled away quicker and quicker each passing day. The green shade from the leaves was beginning to turn a burnt orange colour, and the air had a harsh chill.
The warmth from the candles did not quite echo into the library as much as I was hoping it would. With the room being the sheer size that it is, it was hard for the heat to circulate. I rubbed my arms and tried to ignore the cold for now so I could grab a book or two and head out.
My eyes run over the spines of the old books, waiting until they fall upon one useful enough to take. As I wandered down the aisles, my feet halted as I noticed a gap between books, and a boy stood in the opposite aisle. He was very focused on the book in his hands, so much so that a small wrinkle had formed between his brows. from his light brown hair, slightly curly hair and light pink cheeks with small freckles scattered over them like stars, he was easily identified as one of the intimidating Slytherin boys. Yet, his name could not come to me.
Before I could get out of his sight, he looked up. right at me. I froze. I mean, what else could I do? My mind went completely blank but at the same time it was racing a thousand miles per hour. Wood dug into my skin. He was still looking at me. Not past me. Not through me. At me.
My stomach twisted painfully. Every awful possibility rushed through my head at once. Had I been staring too long? Did he think I was spying on him? Did he recognise me? Worse, did he dislike me already? The silence between us stretched unbearably thin. I suddenly became hyper aware of everything. The faint crackling of the fireplace somewhere deeper in the library. The dusty scent of parchment. The quiet ticking of the clock mounted high on the stone wall. Even my breathing sounded too loud.
I should leave. That was the normal thing to do. Just walk away. Simple. Yet my feet refused to move. His eyes narrowed slightly, almost curious, and the motion alone sent panic fluttering through my chest. Slytherin boys always looked dangerous without even trying. There was something unreadable about them, something sharp beneath the polished uniforms and composed expressions. I swallowed hard and immediately regretted it when the sound echoed in my ears. Please stop looking at me.
The wrinkle between his brows softened a little as he slowly closed the book in his hands, one finger tucked carefully between the pages to keep his place. Somehow, that made everything worse. Because now he wasn't distracted anymore. Now, all of his attention was on me. A small and slightly amused smirk crept up onto his face. I was now all too aware that I wasn't just looking at him, I was staring. in awe. The smirk on his face only grew bigger, bringing his perfect features together to form a perfect face. One that had to have been handcrafted by Merlin himself.
I suddenly snap my lips shut, my lips that had at some time parted. I had to leave, or at least move. With all the adrenaline left in my body, my feet moved. I step out of his line of sight. paused to breathe for a second, then darted as fast as I could.
My feeble attempt to leave the isle I was in and move so far down into the depths of the library that no one would ever find me again was sabotaged when a hard figure swung round the bookshelf and brought me to a halt. With a terrible realization i look at and saw the same beautiful freckled boy just inches away from me.
Up close, he looked even more unfairly pretty. The warm light hanging above the aisle caught against the soft curls of his light brown hair, turning parts of it gold. His freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose so lightly they almost didn’t look real. There was something sharp hidden beneath the softness, though. Something confident. Dangerous. My pulse hammered violently against my ribs. He tilted his head a little, eyes flicking over my face with quiet amusement, like he already knew exactly how nervous I was. Then one corner of his mouth lifted.
“Going somewhere?” he asked softly.
His voice was low and smooth, the kind that settled straight into your chest and stayed there. I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
He let out a chuckle; it was smooth and deep. The sound was so enchanting, it was like I could feel it in my chest. becuse it seemed like i had lost the capability to speak i shook my head meekly. He let out a chuckle; it was smooth and deep. The sound was so enchanting, it was like I could feel it in my chest. Because it seemed like I had lost the capability to speak, I shook my head meekly.
His eyebrows lifted slightly, amused. “No?” he repeated softly.
Heat crawled violently into my cheeks. Merlin. His gaze lingered on my face for a moment too long before he tilted his head slightly. “You know, most people say words during conversations.”
“I can speak,” I blurted out immediately.
The smirk on his face widened. “There she is.”
I wished the floor would open beneath me and swallow me whole.. He shifted against the bookshelf beside him, arms folding loosely across his chest. The movement pulled my attention straight back to him again, which was unfortunate considering he already seemed very aware of the effect he was having on me.
“You always run away from boys who look at you?” he asked.
“I just… I didn’t mean to be in your way,” I managed quickly, voice far too small.
He watched me for a second longer, like he was trying to figure something out. Then that faint smirk returned.
“You’re not in my way,” he said. “You’re just standing there looking like you’ve seen a ghost.”
i gulped again and took a small step back, apologising and speaking, "I can move." so quiletly im supirised he even heard it. He shifted immediately, taking a half step towards me. That only made it worse. He noticed. Of course he did.
“You don’t need to apologise,” he said, quieter now.
That made my stomach twist for a different reason. Silence fell for a moment. I hated how loud it felt. I could hear pages turning somewhere far down the aisle, the faint scrape of a chair, my own breathing that would not settle properly. His eyes stayed on me, but not in the sharp way they had before. More like he was observing something interesting that had wandered into his space by accident.
“You always this nervous around strangers?” he asked.
There was a small pause before I got the courage to speak up and say "I'm never really in a situation where I have to talk to new people…. so"
"so forgive me if im not very good at talking..".
Gosh, I didn't think that would sound as pathetic as it did, but my brain had already used all of the public speaking capabilities that I seemed to have run out of normal things to say. That seemed to make him pause. Just for a second. Then he tilted his head, studying me again, like the answer didn’t quite match what he expected.
“You don’t have to apologise for that either,” he said, quieter still.
My throat tightened. I looked down at the books instead, because looking at him felt like too much.
“I’m still sorry,” I said, almost automatically.
He exhaled through his nose, like a quiet laugh he didn’t fully let out.
“You’re going to make me feel like I’m terrifying you,” he said.
That made me look up quickly.
“No,” I said, a little more urgent. “You’re not. I get nervous. Around people.”
There was a pause after that. Something in his expression softened properly this time, the teasing edge fading.
“Right,” he said slowly. “So you’re just like this with everyone.”
I nodded again. A beat. I was mentally preparing for the torment that was sure to follow after the nightmare of an encounter that just took place. Then his mouth curved slightly, but it wasn’t the same smirk anymore. It was lighter.
“That’s a shame,” he said.
My brows pulled together slightly. “Why?”
He didn’t answer straight away. His gaze flicked over me once more, slower this time, like he had decided something.
Then, easier than before, he said, “Because I think you’d be easier to talk to than you think.”
My breath caught embarrassingly fast in my throat. But before I could respond, he was walking past me, brushing me softly as he did so. The contact was brief, accidental in appearance, but it still left my thoughts completely scrambled.
I turned too late, slow and confused, like my body had not quite caught up with what had just happened. My eyes followed where he had been standing only seconds before. Empty aisle. No trace of him.
With my heart still pounding and no new books in my possession, I fled the library in such a hurry that I was sure I made a rushing noise. My footsteps were far too quick, echoing softly between the shelves as I moved past rows of sleeping knowledge and dim lantern light. I kept my head down the entire way, as if someone might still be watching me even though I knew that made no sense.
By the time I was almost at the common room, it was completely dark outside. The castle corridors had shifted into something quieter. The torches along the walls flickered low, casting long shadows that moved as I passed them.
Even though it was freezing, the warmth in my cheeks had yet to settle down. It stayed there stubbornly, burning like I had swallowed a flame I could not put out. My skin felt too aware of everything, like the memory of his voice had been pressed into it.
I lifted a hand briefly to my face, half in disbelief. Still warm. Still bright. Still completely ridiculous. I had never had an interaction like that, or even remotely similar. I mean, unless you counted that boy from the carriage, but even he did not bring out a reaction remotely as intense as that boy did.
I slowed slightly at the thought, the corridor suddenly feeling longer than it had a moment ago.
The realisation settled in slowly, like something important I had dropped and only just noticed missing. I replayed it in my head. The smirk. The voice. The way he had looked at me like I was something mildly interesting instead of something inconvenient.
Nothing. Not even a name.
I let out a quiet breath, trying to steady myself. It did not really work. All I had was a face. Freckles like scattered light. A voice that stayed too easily in my head. And the strange, unsettling fact that I could probably recognise him anywhere now, even without a name attached to him.
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