The Color of Thoughts // Charles and Eleven
Making sure his physical body was in class was often enough to satisfy his professors for his studies - they knew Eleven was smart, knew he would get the material, and also knew that he hardly ever paid attention, or did his homework. He tried sometimes…he really did, but the gangly boy’s attentions were always on bigger and better things. Things like higher level maths or physics, things like creating hypothetical planets and the worlds they created based on one single trait.
Today however, as Eleven sat by the windows of his Transfiguration class, his mind wandered to deeper and darker places. This particular year was starting to take it’s toll on him. He had a serious girlfriend - one who had tried to kill him immediately, and then saved his life and practically demanded to start dating. Not just that, but he was pretty sure he had fallen so hard for the Slytherin that it was more likely something out of some twisted Grimm’s fairytale.
This had spurred a confrontation with his brother - who thought that River had somehow enchanted him or something of the sort, so now there was tension between his family and his girlfriend. Ten himself had Jack now, so there was far less time spent between the two brothers - a fact that made the Gryffindor lonely, on occasion.
Quidditch had been completely absent this year, due to the bombs planted on the pitch, and in the process, Ten had almost died, Jack did die, and then should have died again, but nobody could figure out how he lived through bringing Ten back from Death’s door. Eleven had initially felt cripplingly guilty over the fact that he himself had not gone off to save his brother, but Jack had taken the chance, and if he hadn’t…well. Eleven was grateful for Jack, as well as guilty. It shouldn’t matter, since the end result was the same, but the Gryffindor felt as if perhaps Ten would hold it against him.
Eleven blinked, realizing that the Professor was speaking to him, and narrowed his eyes as a couple of students giggled as his general state of unawares. “Eleven, please pay attention. If you do no perform this incantation properly, than your chairs may not be able to be turned back, and I doubt the school can pay for unlimited numbers of chairs…”
Tuning the Professor out again, Eleven sighed, looking back out of the window. He had perfected this particular transfiguration spell 3 months ago, and went back to going over the drama of the last few months. River, hurt in the bombing. Ten almost died. Numerous others hurt in the wreckage, and an urgent sense that nobody was safe in the castle anymore. Then there was the Halloween ball, with the werewolves, and yet again more dangers due to that attack.
Rubbing a hand over his face, the Gryffindor sighed. Every time he thought of his girlfriends lately, she was always so frustrated. He tried to imagine her with a smile on her face, but all there was was frustration. Glancing out of the window again, he realized that she was probably out around the grounds somewhere, flying on her broom. Perhaps. It seemed like something she would do, anyways, with Quidditch no longer an option for the year. She wouldn’t let her skills down by the wayside. That was one of his favorite things about her - always fighting, no matter what was happening.
