Whenever, Wherever ((Anyone))

[Jordan Elizabeth Cortes]

It wasn't that hard, so why was it so complicated? Why couldn't she put her footing in the correct stance - and why wasn't she able to swing her heel back to the right part before she moved on to the next step? Was it something that was in her body that was preventing her from doing such a simple step, or was she just not simple minded enough to complete it? Jordan sighed in frustration and blew at a stray strand of brown hair that had fallen in front of her eyes, she then shifted her weight from her right foot- to her left and swung around quickly, before pulling herself into a slow arch. Her hand gripped the rope that was dangling from the ceiling as she arched her right leg lightly into the air and continued to hold the perfect poise. Her hair fell lazily out of the bun she had pulled it into moments before, and her strappy heels cut into her tan skin. She would have sores in the morning.

Jordan breathed in as she slowly swung back up, and landed with both feet parallel. She smiled at herself, but it was a sad smile. She wouldn't be able to get this move down without Juan being there with her, to dance with her. The rope would have to do until she could have her dance partner with her. Sure she could do something magically to make everything easier to do, but she wouldn't want to cheat the system - especially since dancing was her life. Her soul. Jordan wouldn't take something and artifically learn it, not something as important to her as this was. She walked over to her table where her supplies were. She came down here to study- but when she couldn't, she had decided to clear her head. She did this by dancing. She was a very surprising person, one moment her passion could be art- the next it was dancing. They both constantly fought for the larger place in her heart.

Tired, Jordan sat down in her chair and grabbed the water bottle that was at arms length. She crossed her legs and then peered over her textbook. Potions. She made a cringing face, but picked up her quill none the less and started to take the notes. Her handwriting swirled over the parchment and there were a few smears here and there because she was left handed. She looked at the sain on her hands and sighed, defeated. She licked her thumb and rubbed at the black ink on her hand, it came off- but only a little. Jordan groaned and ignored it as she went back to her notes. She didn't want to get points taken away, even if it was because she didn't have complete notes. Jordan bent low over parchment, and didn't look up until the door to the room she was in squeaked open. Her head lifted up and she looked at who was intruding.

[sammy]

Cathy looked at her reflection blankly. Pale. Clammy. What was wrong with her? She laid down on her bed slowly, gracefully, the covers greeting her with comfortable wings. Maybe she had a fever. What would she do then? Go to the Nurse? No, Cathy disliked all nurses, although they were there to help. She coughed slightly. Ouch. Sore throat. Not good. She rolled over and pulled the pillow over her head, trying to block out the noise that was over-ridding her senses. Another ouch. Why so much noise? She felt like screaming, for her nerves were on fire. Why can't others feel her pain? Too much homework. Haven't eaten well. Cathy closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Calm. Relax. She had just gotten her letter from Daddy. Think about it. She willed herself to do so, but when she did it made herself feel even more sick. Her stomach lurched dramatically and she bolted up in bed, hugging the covers close. She must have attracted stares but everything was blurry. Blobs. Ugly things with multi-colors. She blinked quickly before jumping up and almost running out of the room. Quiet. Needed silence. No person to talk to. No one to bother her. She sprinted through the halls and almost collided with someone whom she couldn't see either. Ouch. She felt the pain and it blinded her even more. Cold. Hard stone. She must have fallen. The person didn't even stop to help her up. A thudding pounded in her ears. Retreating footsteps. Tears. Sliding down her cheeks. She was sick. Needed nurse. Breath. Swallow. Cry.

Cathy lay there for a while, her head resting against the cold hard floor. Her head continued to pound heavily. She was always like this. Melancholy. She felt bad for herself and thus feel into severe jolts of traumatic changes. She would sob one second and be laughing wildly the next. She was sick with a fever of regretting her past. She couldn't deny it but even here, at Hogwarts, there was nothing to look forward to. No one to help her through this troubling time. Everyone she knew was old news, as Giselle would say, and couldn't do anything for her. They all knew the old Catherine and not the new, dramatically ill Catherine. Cathy sighed and bit her lip from screaming. How could she be so misunderstood? She wailed quietly and dry sobs shook her body until her ribs bent horribly and almost cracked. Another ow. She was hurting herself....purposely? Her stomach heaved and almost lost it's contents but since she was lying down, nothing happened. She lay there, breathing as heavily as a sprinter running a twenty-mile race. Her legs burned as much as her mind and every cell in her body was aflame with fire of guilt. She was the cause of so much problems. Couldn't deal with her very being. Was she destroying herself? Cathy's lips wobbled as she struggled to sit up. It took a few moments; her stomach muscles weren't working very well anymore. Her hair was splayed over her face, blinding her, not that she could see anything anyway. She need to calm down. Stop the tears that she couldn't even feel slide down her cheeks. Another unexpected sob shook her. She couldn't control her body. Oh, the sensation of extreme guilt and dread could match no torture. Living with yourself, you enemy, being you enemy, was impossible to live through. She had to destroy herself. It happened only once a month, a spontaneous reactions when something bad happened. A month was the longest possible time for something bad to happen. Bad. She gulped and pushed herself off toward the wall. Her arms wouldn't move. Were they broken? Stop. Wait. She leaned backward, expecting to hit the floor but instead hit the wall. Had she collapsed that close. Her head hit it harder then usual. Stars. Tiny stars erupted in her head. Ouch. Help. She leaned forward and reached for the closest thing available. A door knob. It was cold and slick. Her hand fell from it and hit the floor as if lifeless. How pitiful. She couldn't even pull herself from her melancholy.

She sat there for a while, doing breathing exercises and resting her head. She was a strange person, Cathy knew this from mere experience. Giselle had expressed her feelings on the matter more then once, especially when it was not welcome. She brushed back her hair and looked up, her vision clear now. She could see. A good sign. She grabbed hold of the door knob, sure it had rattled from the inside, and pulled herself into a standing stance. Her legs felt like they were going to bust but they weren't on fire. No more flame was in sight. Her arms were still wobbly but she couldn't let that get to her now. She was okay, that's what mattered. Not if she was still shaky. Reliving herself, she pushed open the door. It hurt to pull it open, and the noise rattled her fragile mind after just healing. Old wounds wouldn't heal easily. She stood in the doorway, adjusting to the new light slowly. By then, she realized someone was in there too. Oh no. She had wanted to be alone. Maybe it was okay now. She didn't feel so bad. Not yet. Walking inside, her clicking heels resounded loudly around the room, filling her mind slowly with clicking. Even when she halted in front of the girl, it kept on going. The beat was not familiar. It stopped gradually as Cathy took deep breathes. Breath in. Breath out. Swallow. Relax. Greet. "Hello. I'm Cathy Dumas, Gryffindor sixth year. Who're you?" she asked breathlessly, her voice cracking. The meaning of strong was of no use to her. She evaded it. Now was one of those times. She gazed at the girl, trying to register who she was through narrowed eyes. It hurt to think, so she stopped and sat down trembling, in a nearby chair. Her skin was pale. Ghostly. Her eyes must have been wide and her hair, wild. What an odd sight. She looked up slowly to meet the girl's eyes, almost terrified of the reaction she could get.

[Jordan Elizabeth Cortes]

Huh... Jordan thought at the first glance of the source of her interruption. She raised an eyebrow at the girl. She either was the girl from Hogsmeade or an identical twin. It appeared to be the latter upon the girl's introduction. The girl looked like hell. And Jordan wondered if she were one of those melodramatic girls who liked or thrived on their self-pity. Jordan hated those girls. But that was only because she used to be one of those girls...once upon a time. Jordan felt an overwhelming feeling of self-pain wash over her, but she quickly shoved it away. The girl had collapsed into the chair opposite Jordan and she seemed to be very worn out and tired. Jordan quickly held out her hand for the other to shake, "Jordan Cortes, Hufflepuff Sixth year." She pulled her hand back and picked up her quill again before writing a few more words on her notes.

"Um, I hate to be rude, but are you okay? You don't seem too well.." Jordan's Spanish accent was thick and it had a slight British drawl in it, a very odd mixture. Her brown hair was completely out of the bun it had been in a moment before, so it now fell down her shoulders gracefully. Her light Bambi brown eyes seemed to bore into Cathy's. Trying to read her soul...which she had a slight talent for. Jordan crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, her eyes never leaving the girls. If Cathy did turn out to be some self-pitying girl, Jordan wouldn't know she would react. The Hufflepuff side of her would want to comfort the girl, while her other side would want to scream...already the words were running through her head. Many times Jordan had to deal with drama queens, so she basically had the speech memorised- and she wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

Jordan picked up her quill and ran it along her arm, sending quick and short shivers up her spine and making that tingling feeling appear. Goose bumps rose on her arms, and Jordan watched as her hair began to stand on end. In the muggle world, they say when you get a shiver up your spine- a ghost just passed through you or is near you. But Jordan knew better than that...ghosts didn't have a presense unless they passed directly through you, and even then it was like being dumped into ice water instead of a small shiver. Jordan let her mind wander back to the present moment and watched Cathy with patient eyes.

[sammy]

Cathy's eyes glazed over slightly. Her head hurt. The rhythmic pounding surged through her soul and into her heart, which was following along. She almost missed what the girl said next. The pounding had filled her ears. The girl said her name was Jordan and she was a Hufflepuff sixth year. Cathy didn't know many Hufflepuffs, but they all seemed like nice strangers. That was good. Had Fate brought her here inevitably? Cathy blinked to keep tears running down her face. The agony she was feeling couldn't be held inside for much longer. She would burst. But she couldn't confide in a complete stranger. That wouldn't be right. Her problems were beyond recognition to anyone, including her closest friends and even Giselle. She whimpered quietly and pulled her knees up to her chest. At least then she had something to hold on to. Then, Jordan asked if she was okay. If she was okay!

"Do I look okay?" Cathy muttered softly, her eyes flickering away from the girls'. Jordan's were practically boring into her. Cathy shivered. She hated being under a microscope. This counted as one of those occasions. "I don't feel well either. Really, though, I'm all right. I'm always fine. I was just.....reliving my childhood." she had to say something along those lines. After all, that's where it had all started. That's where her melancholy self developed. This wasn't Cathy. This was a different girl, Catherine, who couldn't control her emotions. She shivered slightly and grasped her knee caps so hard it hurt. Maybe she was being too dramatic, but she doubted it. She deserved to be this way. No one could understand her complex life. Giselle wouldn't listen and wouldn't accept it, for that would mean she wasn't the pureblood witch or Creole. She was a Cajun and a half-blood, not worthy to be in her own House. Cathy smirked slightly before realizing that she was still in the room with the Hufflepuff. She smiled almost apologetically.

"I have....multiple problems, let's say. I just seem to be unable to get over them." she ran a hand through her hair to run it of all knots. It covered her face and her vision. She couldn't see anything but the golden strands in front of her. It was easier this way. Without seeing anything, she could talk freely without seeing the effect it had on the other person. "It's hard to understand and I really don't want to bore you with my own problems. Especially since I don't know you. And if I told you...." she frowned and folded her hair away from her face. She was being foolish. Her legs itched to get on the floor and dance. She would be a prima ballerina when she grew older. Or a painter. She couldn't decide yet. Her talents were equivalent to each other and she couldn't decide which one she preferred. She smiled weakly up at the girl, deciding to remain quiet and see what she had to say on the matter.