Post by Deleted on Feb 14, 2013 13:47:33 GMT -5
Routine. School life was built upon it. It relied upon it. It required it. Every so often, however, something came along to break that routine, whether it be a gigantic snake on the slither, a mad man on the loose or a dangerous yet alluring tournament. There was always something interesting going on at Hogwarts between the mundane periods of boredom, general dullness and tediousness that was otherwise known as ordinary life. Life, and ordinary, didn’t seem to go together at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. It was almost allergic to it. The stairs moved, the pictures talked and ghosts of people long since gone held civilised conversations with the living. There was nothing vengeful about remaining. Those who remained usually wanted to. She suspected, however, Myrtle, who resided in the Second Floor Bathroom and often flooded it, had little choice in the matter. Barely a teen and she was here forever: that wasn’t a choice, that wasn’t an imprint of option, that was trauma, that was anger, that was grief. She was an unstable spirit to whom humanity had clung like a shroud lasting, effective and real but nothing but a bitter shadow of tattered remnants of a girl long since lost. There was nothing to be done for Myrtle now.
But there were others in this school with worries and woes: those not beyond help or redemption. Harry potter often refused assistance but got in all the same. There was another here, different, and she had noticed. Luna noticed many things. She noticed when a window was open when it wasn’t when she left. She noticed carefully dried tear stains on cheeks and the fading speckles of nerves. She noticed too much blinking and the penchant towards staring. She noticed fear, terror and dread. The avoidance of an issue. The postponing of the inevitable. Being sad when no one else is looking. Draco Malfoy was sad when he thought the world wasn’t crowding around him and when it was he pushed them away, even those he professed to call friends. Those he knew. He seemed....pressured.
Luna of course, had no idea what was going on but there was something going on with the white blond boy and the severe attitude. He was sharp and angles and cutting and edges. He was screaming. Luna knew what it was like to scream and have no one hear, to have no one look or care. Trapped in a cage that was routine and life and ordinariness she went round and round the garden like a little teddy bear because what else could she do? That was what was expected of her and soon that routine had become normal. She had flown into the weirdness that was her life and the interests of her mother as though that was possibly a good substitute for flesh and blood. She pretended and all was well. And then, as time went by, Luna forgot she had ever started. Running, didn’t necessarily involve physical activity.
They were probably more alike than either of them liked to believe.
But there were others in this school with worries and woes: those not beyond help or redemption. Harry potter often refused assistance but got in all the same. There was another here, different, and she had noticed. Luna noticed many things. She noticed when a window was open when it wasn’t when she left. She noticed carefully dried tear stains on cheeks and the fading speckles of nerves. She noticed too much blinking and the penchant towards staring. She noticed fear, terror and dread. The avoidance of an issue. The postponing of the inevitable. Being sad when no one else is looking. Draco Malfoy was sad when he thought the world wasn’t crowding around him and when it was he pushed them away, even those he professed to call friends. Those he knew. He seemed....pressured.
Luna of course, had no idea what was going on but there was something going on with the white blond boy and the severe attitude. He was sharp and angles and cutting and edges. He was screaming. Luna knew what it was like to scream and have no one hear, to have no one look or care. Trapped in a cage that was routine and life and ordinariness she went round and round the garden like a little teddy bear because what else could she do? That was what was expected of her and soon that routine had become normal. She had flown into the weirdness that was her life and the interests of her mother as though that was possibly a good substitute for flesh and blood. She pretended and all was well. And then, as time went by, Luna forgot she had ever started. Running, didn’t necessarily involve physical activity.
They were probably more alike than either of them liked to believe.