Hell Hath No Fury ((William))

[Samantha Driscoll]

Samantha had finally decided it was time to leave the seclusion and safety of the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey. She couldn’t live for the rest of the year in here, and after her reconciliation with Charles she was feeling much better, not only because everything was looking brighter now she knew they could have a relationship together, but also because he gave her hope. Another burden off her shoulders was that she now knew she could do magic again - she had been unable to after she'd used it to cast Crucio, touching it alone had made her start shaking uncontrollably. She decided to do it in the middle of the day; a time when most students were less likely to be in the dormitory and she could move her belongings there with as little comment as possible. She had not forgotten Terrence Urbino's reaction in the Great Hall, yet she was a bit more prepared now to face the Slytherin's now they had finally seen her outside the classroom. She wasn't ready to say anything back to them if they threw insults at her or looks of disgust, but she was ready to hold her head high and ignore them. She had Kris and Charles' approval, and she was making a step forward of her own volition and no-one else's, and that in itself stood for something. It was Kris' idea for her to go to the Great Hall; Charles had made her realise she could use her wand if in a less direct manner, but this – this was her idea.

She went to her bed, touching the familiar sheets, and she found herself thinking they were too soft for her liking. She went to her cupboard and opened it. More out of habit than anything else she whispered several charms, and one by one the drawers opened before her. She saw all her old belongings and luxuries, but she also saw what she had forgotten was still there – letters from her Mother and books and notes from her father. She pulled out one book all about the casting of the Unforgivable curses. It bit at her hands as she opened it but Samantha had known it would do that and she slapped the cover and said a curse that made it stop. She looked at it, and it was the first time she looked at with disgust. How many times had she studied it, slaved at the curses inside it – she remembered herself learning all the things her father had wanted her to - the harmful potions, the magic darker than any girl of her age should have heard about let alone attempted to learn and master. She hated her father in that instant, hated him for robbing her of her innocence, hated him for making her lead such a miserable existence, and her Mother for doing nothing to stop him, and for her constant reprimands.

She had moved to her dresser and she looked up at her reflection as if seeing herself for the first time, seeing how pathetic she had become – she had been wallowing in self-pity and denial for so long and now – more clearly and painfully than any time she could remember since she'd left Azkaban - she had to face the naked truth – and it was ugly. All she had done in the past, all she would have to do make up for it, everything came back to her. She stormed out of the dormitory, hardly knowing where she was going. She was in the middle of a corridor and she opened the first door she could see, nothing could get rid of the pent-up fury inside her, even running around in the corridors. She found a classroom with its door slightly open, she decided she would go into this classroom and take it out on something, anything. She ran into the classroom, seething mad and hardly seeing where she was going, fury coursing through her veins, her heart beating wildly in her chest. In her rage she didn’t notice that she had left the door open. She ripped at the book until nothing was left of it but shreds and still she felt an overwhelming energy surging through her. She leaned against one of the classroom walls, running her hands through her hair and then hauled a chair away from one of the desks and cursed loudly. And after she said the first swear word a series of expletives followed, each more profane than the one before it, each with more feeling and more heat until she’d said all the swear words she knew and a few creative combinations of her own spurred by her fury and bitterness. She swore at her parents, at the circumstances that had left her like this, at a crazy world she had been caught in partly by her own choice.

What had she done in her life to deserve such parents? Why did it have to be this way? Couldn’t she have had two normal people who had just loved her, who hadn’t had a prejudice against muggle-borns and half-bloods, who hadn’t estranged her from her brother when he’d been the only one who’d really loved her and had wanted nothing in return except for her to love him back? She had never been happy – all her life had been a miserable existence and a vain attempt to prove to them that she was worthy of their attention and their love, and she realised now that she could have been made Minister for Magic and they would’ve still reminded her of her shortcomings. And look what was left of her – a torn, ruined soul and after seventeen years she had to start all over again. She had to pick up the pieces or maybe she had to make new ones and construct her life from them – why had she put up with it all these years? Why hadn’t she foreseen the end, why had she thought they knew what was good for her and hadn’t known it herself? Why had the cover been on her eyes for so long?

((OK so this PG-13 and so I can’t write out what exactly Samantha is saying, but believe me she's said some very dirty things in my mind.))

[will]

Will picked up his things in the dormitory. Everything had been thrown out of its place as he searched for the letters. He knew he had put them somewhere in the dresser closest to his bed, but now that he searched and searched, he realized its absence. Running a hand through his hair, Will told himself to calm down. The letter had to be somewhere in here. Not that he needed it profusely, just that he wanted to read them again. But now that they weren't here... Will sat down heavily on his bed, looking through all the items he had piled on his bed. It wasn't much of a pile considering he had no one. A locket of hair from Luce, some files on Luce, files on himself, clothes, shades, a comb and brush, toothpaste, tooth brush, all the needed things to live a sufficient life. Yet he didn't have the extra trinkets that everyone else enjoyed with ease - and that made him upset. The letters had been a treasure to him, a reminder that there was still a chance for his dream to become reality. Not being able to find it gave Will the strangest feeling - almost like it had never happened.

A frenzy issued over the missing letters. In the end, Will found them wedged between two of his drawers, a crumpled mess. Even though they were hardly legible, Will was immensely satisfied and relieved. So they were still there... he looked over his writing and the chicken scratch that was John McCartney's. He had already read and re-read them a dozen times over - in fact he almost knew them by heart. Smiling absently, Will smoothed out the letter against the edge of his drawer, getting rid of most of the wrinkles and creases. Satisfied, Will stood and dropped to his knees. After rummaging around under his bed some, he pulled out his trunk. It was small and light next to most, but it served its purpose well. Will opened it and surveyed how empty it was. Soon, so soon he could hardly wait, this trunk would be full and he would be back on his way to Lucifer. He tried to avoid thinking about the orphanage - that was to be taken care of later. He folded the letter over four times and placed it in the pouch, zipping it shut. There. Now they were safe and in a demented way - he had started getting ready to leave.

Will left the common room with a strange feeling of elation in the pit of his stomach. It made him light-headed and hyper. Walking down the halls, he ran his finger across the cool stone. It was rough in some places, but Will let the feeling rub off his finger tip. This was his second home. He pretty much only had one more year to go before he was free of this place. He would miss it, but in a way graduating from Hogwarts would free him from the orphanage. As soon as he became of age, he could move out and become his own person. As he traveled down the corridor without really looking where he was going, he was brought out of his day dreaming by some shouts. It took a bit for Will to register what what going on, and when he did he became shaken. The shouts included so much vulgarity he half-heartedly wanted to high-tail it out of there and pretend he hadn't heard. But curiosity got the better of him, so in the end he found himself inching toward an open door where the cause of disruption was taking place. Peeking through the opening, Will saw a distraught girl (to say the least) and scattered in heaps on the floor was the torn remains of a book. Will being a Raven, felt his heart go out to both book and girl, but mainly book. He was still curious as to what the girl was freaking out about... Upon closer inspection, Will realized that it was the very same girl who had gone to Askaban last year... he remembered that day well. The lesson in Defense Against the Dark Arts that had gone bad. Will bit his lip, trying to decide if it was at all safe to go inside there. In the end though, he figured that this girl - this Samantha Driscoll - needed some help. Even if he did get banged up a bit, Will would be happy to cheer her up some. Stepping into the room, he cleared his throat to let himself be seen by her.

"Uhm... Are you alright?" Will asked cautiously, keeping a fair distance away from her. She obviously needed some room to vent out her anger or... whatever it was she was feeling. Will gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile and waited to see if she would reply.

[Samantha Driscoll]

At the sound of a throat being cleared, she swivelled around on her heel, her hair whipping around her face which was an expression of complete shock. How could she have been so stupid as to let someone hear her – hear her use language she had never even whispered to a friend let alone scream out loud! He had intruded on a very private moment, when she was completely exposed, and he had heard and possibly even seen her act like a complete lunatic! Look at him, standing away from her, look at the look in his eyes, she could see through that half-smile that his eyes were uncertain - what did he think she was, a lion about to spring on him? Or perhaps a raving lunatic? At that thought something burst inside Samantha. She simply did not care any more; she could not feel all the things she was feeling without bursting, and burst she did. Lunatic, she’d show him lunatic!

Her voice was shaky and bitter, her eyes filled with fury and pain. “No, I’m not all right! I’m anything but all right. If there is only one thing in this universe that isn’t all right it’s me! And what the - ,” Sam abstained from using another swear word at the last minute. “And what do you care? What is there that you can do? Rush me off to the Hospital Wing? Guess what, that’s just where I’ve left! And before that I was in Azkaban! That place where the murderers and the scum are – most of them stark staring mad - that’s the sodding filthy place where I was before it,” she spat at him, and without losing momentum or stopping for breath she pulled out her wand and threatened him. “And you’d better watch it, because I don’t give a damn about what happens now and I could just – I could just” She stopped, horrified at the words that had come to her tongue, disgusted that the thought had even entered her head. She had almost said, “I could just use another Unforgivable Curse on you,” but instead her wand fell from her hand and and went to her mouth, and all her anger of a moment before changed to shock. Before she could do anything about it she broke down completely. She turned from him, unable to control herself anymore, and broke into sobs. Heart-rending, pain-filled sobs that wracked through her whole body, and she shook before him, wishing he would leave her be. She leaned back into the wall, and didn’t even try to stop, didn’t even think of it, of the embarrassment of anything but her sadness. She had just wanted to take a step forwards. She had just thought she could do this small thing, and then she had found the book. She wished she could run from here, from her past – from herself.

[will]

Will put his head down as the girl suddenly whipped around to see him and not long later began to scream at him. He was somewhat grateful she had censored her words some, but at the moment, just hearing her point all her fury at him made him want to scurry out of the room or, take a totally different path and slap her. Maybe slapping would get her to wake up and realize she wasn't helping herself any by taking out everything on a person who just wanted to help. Will direly wanted to point this out but instead bent his head and waited for the storm to pass. The girl obviously had many things built up - her rage continued for what seemed an eternity. Will felt torn; he was frustrated at both the girl and himself, and he was worried for her. Azkaban had certainly taken a toll on her in both appearance and soul. Will didn't know what to do for her; all he could make out was how much alike she sounded to a banshee.

Then it was over. As suddenly as it had started, the girl seemed to have a struggle inside herself. Will lifted his head in time to see her drop her wand in what seemed surprise. But when he looked at her full in the face, it looked more like terror coursing through her. Will watched as she shook with sobs. What had happened? He must have been blocking out all noise; he hadn't noticed a thing different until the yelling had stopped. Biting his lip, Will walked toward her, hesitated, then walked the rest of the way. "All I wanted to do was help," he said quietly, "and you screamed at me. Why?" He didn't sound very friendly, he knew that much, but what did she expect? Him to fall for every sorry-sob story that happened to scream at him and then start shaking with sobs? Will raised his eyebrows expectantly, hoping that she would stop crying. It made him feel like the bad guy, and he most certainly wasn't! He wasn't the one who had yelled, he had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time. He had just tried to make her feel better, but instead set of a chain reaction. Will sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling. He wanted to help, he really did, but the girl didn't seem to want anyone to help her, even when it was most apparent that's what she needed.

"Look, why don't you sit until you settle down a bit?" Will asked, nodding at the chairs in the room. It was just a small cluster, but enough for both him and the girl to sit down for a rest. He gave her a smile. "Come on, you know you want to. Besides, it's much more comfortable then leaning on a wall." He grinned and shrugged. "Plus, it might make you feel better. Maybe talking about it too? You know, I'm here to listen to you. I came in here to help, and that's still my objective. So... um... shall we start off with basics?" William said, walking over to a chair and sitting down. He hoped the girl would join him soon. It wouldn't do any good for her to just stand there and cry but to try to be strong and sit up, raising your head high. At least, that was Will's philosophy. He didn't expect the girl to have the same. "My name's William Senetta, but you can call me Will."

[Samantha Driscoll]

It was the first time she had let herself lose control and scream, the first time she had let out all of her emotion, and in a way she was relieved to have finally cried but this emotion was short-lived, tainted by the presence of someone she didn’t know and who did not know or care about her, and that spoiled it all. She had needed to do that, but she had needed to do it alone, or maybe in front of Kris or Charlie, not in front of this boy who knew nothing about her or her past and who she didn’t need judging her or wanting to help her when he couldn’t. She was mortified that he had seen her now, and she found herself almost hating him for being here, but then she stopped herself. “Why?” she repeated bitterly, and she looked at him in the eyes, her own miserable and red. She did not like his tone. She found herself thinking back to the day when she had first met Cathy, who had looked as equally flustered as this boy and she had been feeling just as lost. But then she had just been out of Azkaban. She had thought her life was over. She hadn’t been thinking about her image, she had wondered why Cathy had helped her later, but she had just did what Cathy said, and she had been surprised later to find they had begun to like each other. She wouldn’t have minded too much if it had been Cathy who was here. But the balances were tipped this time. Right now, just a few happy minutes ago she had thought she was making a step in the right direction. And then this had to happen. And someone had to be here, talking to her like she was a child with a small problem he could help her with. The insecurities and the way people perceived her mattered now, she had the thought that it might not matter when she was stronger, but what William had just witnessed had been private, and she was mortified.

“How the hell do you know what I want?” she said, when he suggested she sit down, but she didn’t say it angrily, she said bitterly and threw her hands up in frustration. “I don’t know that myself,” she said. She was trying to gain her self-control but he was annoying her, she was still angry and every small thing was enough to drive her crazy. She wished she hadn’t told him that. But before he left he deserved to know why he was grating her nerves. And the bitter sarcasm dripped thickly from her voice when she addressed him, although at first it hadn’t been directly at him. “Thank you so much for your noble feelings and intentions Mr. Senetta, and thanks for still being here after my dramatic performance and after you had to put to up with my screaming at you. But guess what, maybe you’d help if you understood. But there is no way you can, you probably have perfect parents who love you, have a bunch of friends who think you’re wonderful because you’ve never hurt a fly in your life, and are quite pleased and proud yourself because you’ve done good with your life and are heading straight for your goals and are going to make your friends and family proud. Maybe if I had I’d be like you too, wanting to reach out with my big heart and help people, thinking that I could,” she said, pacing up and down the room and trying to keep her voice steady. She finally stopped pacing and stood before him. She had lashed out at him and she was wondering whether she cared, but she could wonder after he left. “Chew on that after you leave,” she said, turning her back on him.

[will]

Why? She had asked him why? Will had no idea how he was supposed to answer that, especially since he felt she had no idea what she was doing. She seemed to be in a state of mind where she took out her own problems on everyone else like a child would. Yes, a child. Will bit his lip and felt the pressure build as he fought to get control over himself. If he couldn't get himself to act civilly, how could he expect her to? Will knew that she must have gone through a lot, that she probably had nightmares at night and dwells on what had happened. He couldn't blame her for breaking down like this, but to at least have a little control... Will began grinding his teeth as she started to berate him. Again! What was he trying to do? Help her! Why couldn't she see that?! A great pressure built, nagging at his heart and making his temples throb. He couldn't get angry at her... no, that would be wrong. But as she began to "accuse" him of having the perfect life, Will couldn't handle it anymore.

"Shut up! You have no idea what the hell you're talking about!" Will shouted at her, his fists clenched. "You want a rise out of me? Well, here you go. It worked." He glared at her, feeling the heat rise. "Perfect parents? Parents? I don't have any damn parents! I'm an orphan. I live in an orphanage and people on the outside world treat me like an animal because I'm different. I had to work my whole life to get what I want, a concept I'm sure you don't understand. You just had to point at something and you'd get it. You were probably rolling in money, a spoiled rotten brat. And you're no different now. Look at you, playing the role of a pitiful girl who just got out of prison. I can see why you are angry and upset, but honestly, you aren't doing yourself any good. You're letting yourself rot for what? Because you can't get over it? Can't let anyone in? I'm just trying to help and you explode at me for what reasons? I'm not hurting you - you're doing a fine job of that yourself. So just stop the antics, because all I see is a rotten miserable girl who can't help herself. You want to live your life like that? Fine. Go ahead." Will stopped to catch his breath, head and heart pounding. "I never had any friends until the age of eleven. I never had any parents since I can remember. I live in an orphanage where I'm treated like a damn dog and I've been working all my life to have my dream come true. And it might not even happen because someone will get in the way. And then what will happen to me when I'm old enough to get out of the orphanage? I'll be on the streets, begging for money like your average bum. Have you ever helped anyone in your life? Probably not. And now that it's the other way around - that you're the one who needs help - you can't handle it. It's too much for a rich brat to handle. Isn't it?" He demanded. "I'm sorry I came in here. All I got is a headache. And now I know the reality - you are someone to be pitied."

((I know this kind of got extreme but Will doesn't do good under pressure, especially when someone thinks he's perfect. ))

[Samantha Driscoll]

She was so shocked when he told her to shut up that she did. She'd imagined he would just leave, like the many people before him in her life had, like her mother who hadn’t been strong enough to stay and try and pick up the pieces of her shattered daughter’s life, like the father who was in prison for life. And he was not talking to her with any pity or sympathy like Cathy or Madam Pomfrey or Kris or Charlie, his words were like a blow, but it was one that was awakening her to the things she knew but needed to be reminded of and his method was effective right now, painfully effective. She hadn’t expected it and she certainly hadn’t been trying to get a rise out of him.

His tirade rendered her speechless for several minutes after he had finished speaking as she thought about what he said. She was shivering as she spoke when she finally replied, her voice shaky but no longer loud. “I don’t know who you are. If you had a hard life as well I imagined you’d be too embittered to want to reach out and help anyone else. Don’t you resent that some people have a life and you just don’t? And in my case your life was a lie for seventeen long years? I was quick to judge you because I was just dealing with something particularly painful, and that was stupid. Not the first stupid thing I’ve ever done. My parents were horrible people who ruined my life. Maybe you can relate to that, I don’t know.” She needed to explain herself to him because she did care what he thought of her since he had stayed and not left. She did not really realise this but she did realise that it was uncommon for her to want to share her feelings with anyone. “It’s just – they’re the people who have been there from the beginning, the people who you think care about you and are a witness to your life and the people who you think matter – isn’t that the way it’ supposed to be? So many people have that and I – and I guess you – didn’t. It’s hard to make it on your own. It’s hard to look for support in other places. I was too - sc – scared – to look for it outside my family. And I tried so hard to find it with them – but it just wasn’t to be,” she sighed, her self-composure gradually beginning to return to her.

“I was trying to make a step forward, and you’re judging me just like I judged you. You’re saying I’m hurting myself and not getting over it, well I was in the middle of the process, it’s just not as easy as you think! And I screamed at you because I was feeling so confused and frustrated and I was going to burst! I was just feeling too much after having felt too little, or actually having allowed myself to feel anything at all. I needed to get it out, I think I might have felt better in a while if you hadn’t showed up,” she said. “It’s not your fault, whoever who’d have been here I'd have been mad at, I’d have been humiliated to make such an exhibit myself in front of. Wouldn’t you had you been in my place?” she asked him, almost imploring him to agree with her. “You’re not a Slytherin. You don’t know what it’s like, always being under the microscope, always being watched and appraised by your peers. I do know that I have to stop worrying about what people think, but it’s not an easy thing especially when someone catches you at your most emotional moment ever. I think you understand a bit now, I saw some of my own rage when you yelled at me.” Her eyes were no longer furious, fierce, or filled with tears. They were just sad, like a child’s eyes, in which the sadness is tinged with a wondering at how the world could be so cruel and made anyone with a heart want to reach out to him or her.

((That was just the reaction I was looking for. And speaking of extreme – isn’t that synonymous with Samantha Driscoll? ))

[will]

Will took deep breaths to calm himself but also to catch up on his normal breathing skills. After yelling himself hoarse like that, it was no wonder he had to stop to catch his breath. It seemed that what he said had made her speechless to the point where Will almost felt sorry for her. Again. He wouldn't allow himself to feel sorry for her again, because that was obviously not what she was looking for. Anyway, his help had been painfully thrown in his face, so why should he try again? He had to pull himself together and harden his heart, otherwise he would just flare again, but instead of at her it would be at himself.

He made himself listen to what she had to say, all of it, even though he'd rather storm out and leave. Will made his feet stay planted to the ground and his eyes attached to her face, never wandering. He realized that this wasn't just about Azkaban but something more. Her personal life, perhaps. She mentioned her parents a few times and once again, Will felt himself reach out for her. No, he wouldn't do it. Not again. When she was done, Will didn't speak for a couple minutes. He had to gather his thoughts together before he could do anything, let alone try to explain himself. "People only understand others like themselves. You wouldn't see a "perfect" person trying to reach out to someone miserable when they were in a jovial mood. I had a hard life, sure. My parents died when I was age three in a fire - I have no idea what they looked like or who they were. I can't remember them. I had no idea who I was when I was growing up in the orphanage. At a young age I realized that to be sufficient I had to know what I wanted and I had to get it done myself. For no one else would do it. I had to set goals in order to busy myself and my whole life I've been working for one goal and... it could be crushed by a single person at any time. Do you know how that feels? To be on the edge all the time, to dream a dream that could be washed away like that," he snapped his fingers. "It's not a life to live. I've never had any parents or really any satisfactory guardian, so I can't relate to what you went through."

Will took in another deep breath. He had composed himself well so far, he hoped he could continue. "It is hard though, trying to make it on your own. That much I know. You have to fall down a lot, no matter how much you dislike that notion, and then pick yourself back up and move on. I have no idea what it must have been like for you - to have it all and then to be left with nothing. I have no idea. I've started with nothing and tried to make something of myself. In the end, I realize that I was lucky to learn to support myself so much earlier then most because, later on in life, I'll be the one on top. It's the same with you, I believe. I might be wrong but I think, once you recover fully, you'll be all the more wiser." He struggled to support his conclusion but found nothing. He just hoped she could believe that through the sincerity in his voice. "I apologize for judging you so harshly but... I can't stand it when someone tells me I have the perfect life. I try to make it that way, but I probably never will have it. The people like us... we've had our heads wrenched out of the clouds of fantasy earlier then most, if they ever do. It takes a lot to move on looking at everything with reality, I haven't even adjusted yet. It's scary to know that your whole life can come crashing down with the wrong decision. Who knows, maybe you'll be grateful for this happening in the end. Maybe it will help you prepare for a life on your own, who knows?" Will took a step closer to her. "I'm sorry. Here I am, practically lecturing you on myself and my life when you are more important. It was wrong of me to yell at you and to judge you so harshly, but it's over now." He gave her a sincere smile, very unlike the ones before which had been out of pity. "Would you care to sit down now?"

((Sam and extreme? *cough* My post got a little lengthy and most of it is in quotations, much to my surprise. Sam is getting Will to talk, or more like make a speech. ))

[Samantha Driscoll]

She noticed that his expression kept changing; he seemed to be battling with an inner conflict of emotions too. He didn’t answer all her question nor comment on all she had said but then she had spoken quite a lot. It was a strange conversation – each of them had a lot to say to the other and yet Samantha kept asking him to leave and he kept saying she wasn't worth the trouble. And yet now he was listening and asking her to sit and she found that she did want him to stay after all – she was interested in him and his story. She was going to have make it on her own now – he had had to do so since he was only a young boy. She couldn’t imagine what her life would have been like had she been an orphan – or if there was no Charles, for her parents were hardly what you could have called a family. It was only he who had mattered in the end and who should have always mattered.

She walked rather awkwardly towards a chair near him and sat down nervously. She pushed back her long hair and looked at him apprehensively, for the first time since he had arrived actually looking at him properly. He was smiling and it was amazing the difference it made to his expression. She did not quite smile back but she did hold his glance for a few seconds. He had bright green eyes that she saw as quite expressive, and she assumed he must play Quidditch because of his build. His hair was as long as Kris' but did not curl at the ends. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I – not anyone would have stayed after all I said and did," she said, stumbling over the apology. It was also her way of thanking him but Samantha had never really thanked anyone for anything before, or at least never thanked someone and meant it. She had always s taken it for granted that people did things for her because she was who she was and they should feel honoured to be the ones doing anything for her.

He was giving her a lot to think about, and she did think he had a point when he said people who helped you were usually people who could relate to your problem and who were in a tough spot themselves. It was interesting to hear him talk about himself. He was different than anyone she'd ever met, not the son of someone who was rich and famous, not someone who thought they were wonderful, but someone brave enough to admit he was scared of the future which could hold unpleasant surprises, and yet who had the confidence "one day I'll be the one on top". He had not been living in a dreamland like Samantha where she set impossible goals for herself and yet had very little confidence in her abilities despite her skill at many things. "I have no idea what it would be like having to live like that and when you were only three. And I know you’re right, that I should feel grateful that I finally saw the truth, but those two months in there – it was almost as if time stopped, night and day became the same thing, one endless nightmare." But she was getting over it. Slowly but surely with help from Madam Pomfrey and the Healer who came to Hogwarts from St. Mungo's every weekend to check on her and talk to her.

"It’s the same as saying you might be grateful for being an orphan if you ever found out who you were parents really were and they turned out to be horrible people. It might be true but you'll always have a nagging feeling that there was something you missed by not knowing them. I'll always feel as if I should have woken up to the truth before this happened even though I do see that it is the making of me. I suppose I have to learn to just push that feeling away and never look back," she said with a sigh. She wondered if he wondered often about his parents. "Have you? I mean, are you able to do that?" she asked. "And what was that dream you were telling me about?" she asked, her curiosity written all over her face. Yes, she, Samantha Driscoll, Miss Self-Absorbed actually was interested in someone else's life. She didn’t have any dreams of her own for the moment; she was just trying to pass each day without having a nervous break down.

[will]

Will grinned as she came over and sat next to a chair near him. He was glad they were finally getting somewhere; all that yelling had been foolish and irrational. He regretted it now and yet he figured maybe it was for the best. Maybe Samantha wouldn't have taken him seriously if he hadn't screamed and raged/thrown a fit and lectured her. Maybe. He would never truly know because there was no way of changing the past, just as there was no way he would know what life was like with parents. Life was a slate you couldn't wipe clean and start anew. William pushed his thoughts away from his parents and proceeded to sit across from her, giving her space in case she needed it. Will knew from experience that he hated people pushing him around, poking and prodding at him. Samantha was fragile and Will feared that if he made a wrong move, she would snap. Just like last time.

He nodded, pleased to hear that her voice sounded, well, almost normal. Like anyone else. She sounded a little stronger than before and the fear, anger and remorse wasn't as evident. "I've lived like this my whole life. I never knew anything different," he said, shrugging it off. He didn't say it but, in return, he couldn't imagine living a life of luxury. Wouldn't they get bored after a while? Wouldn't being perfect make them want something more instead of constantly being pampered? He had to wonder. What would it be like if he could spend money without having to calculate if he could afford it? What if he didn't have to work to get money? What if whatever he pointed at, his every whim, was given to him immediately? Would life be any better? Will had passionately envied everyone who had those lives and hated how they took it for granted. Had he a life like that... every day would be milked for all its worth. Nothing would be wasted.

And yet, had he a life like that, think of all the things he would have missed out on. Exploring the forest, feeling so very proud after finishing back-breaking work and being rewarded with money, setting goals and succeeding and, if his parents hadn't died, he would have never met Lucifer. That fact alone made him grateful for coming to the orphanage. He couldn't imagine a life without Luce, it would seem so very incomplete. "Yes," he admitted. "I always look back. I always wonder what might've happened had my parents not died. Or if I had been transfered to a different orphanage. I wouldn't be... me," he sighed. "It's nearly impossible to not look back. To not wonder... what if? The easiest way of getting through this - for me anyway - is to look at the wrongs I've done in the past and try to avoid those very same problems in the future. That way, it won't repeat itself. As for my parents..." he trailed off, trying to gather his thoughts into something explainable. "I wonder what it would have been like had they not died. Would they love me? Would I live a comfortable life? I will never know. I've tried finding the history about my parents because I can't stand not knowing who they were. Its like missing a part of your very soul. Especially with all this... pureblood stuff going on. I didn't know who I was.

"I tried to find family friends or people that knew the Senetta's. Sadly my parents had distanced themselves from the wizarding world entirely so really I couldn't find someone who knew them well. I've gotten the hint by those who have met my parents briefly that they were pure but I still am not certain. It seems that the Senetta's disregarded all other purebloods or cut off the connection; if asked some people who are pure and they had know idea who the Senetta's were. Dawn said they were pure though so..." again he shrugged, a habit that was coming more and more naturally. When she asked what his dream was, Will's face split into a grin. "Lucifer. When I first moved to the orphanage, I had no friends except the horses that lived in the stable in the forest. I could win over their trust after a good year of visiting them. But there was one stallion that was wild. That's Lucifer," he said, his eyes becoming distant as he went back to his horse. "No one liked him and everyone who tried to approach him was hurt. That's why they called him Lucifer - after the Devil. A silly label. It took me five long frustrated years win him over and when I did I felt more proud than anything I have ever done before. Have you ever done something like that? Where it feels like you're floating on the clouds?" he asked curiously. Surely Samantha had done something like that...

"Anyway, Luce became my best friend. Everyday I would go to him and feed him an apple, rub his neck, talk to him about my troubles. He would listen too, I swear. He could understand. As the years went by though, I was exiled for what I was - a wizard - and because I had befriended Lucifer. Everyone thought he was bad luck. Not just because of the name but because he was a black horse. Superstition made everyone treat me like I had... two heads or something. I refused to cut off my connection with him though and am now striving to prove that me and Luce - we are worth something. We will get to the top. I've been training for a long time, earning his trust. Now we just have to prove ourselves to everyone, show them how wrong they were!" his eyes sparkled with determination and a fiery defiance. "That's my dream. I'm not just doing it for Lucifer, I'm doing it for myself too. That horse... he's another part of me. We understand each other more than any other human ever could. We share a link, a bond. Without him I wouldn't be whole - I'd be missing a part of me." He grinned as he realized how much he had talked. "See? Whenever people ask me that question I get so riled up I can talk for ages. You asked though so you brought it upon yourself," he said with a smile. "Even if it was unknowingly."

((Whoa, this is long! I got my inspiration back, could you tell? ;D))

[Samantha Driscoll]

Wonder of wonders, he was still smiling at her. They said it took fewer muscles for one to frown than it did for one to smile – Samantha had always seen herself as living proof that that was not true. And yet William – Will as he had asked her to call him – was grinning at her after all she'd done, and after all the unhappy things she had made him think about. It made her feel less guilty and much more willing to listen to him. And it was a comfort to know he that he had had similar problems like Samantha, wondering about the past, wondering whether things could have turned out differently, and yet what was more comforting was that faint light in his eyes as he reminisced and Samantha knew inside her that he had accepted what he was and accepted his past and let bygones be bygones, the occasional look back more of an incentive to do better than to lament over what could have been. He gave her hope that one day she would be able to do the same, find closure and move on. And at least she knew everything about her past – it was not the same for Will.

"Labels are silly and harmful more than you’d think. All my life, I was proud of being a Slytherin, proud of being a Driscoll, proud of being a Slytherin Queen, proud of being one of the top students, proud of being an athletic, lean ballet dancer. And now? All I want is for everything that was associated with those labels to be no longer associated with me – not Samantha Driscoll – but just Sam – just – just another girl, looking for herself, trying to find herself in this world," she said wistfully. I just want to be the person I'm still looking for but is becoming clearer to me and is certainly none of those things, or at least what people expect of them," she admitted. It was hard to admit she was like everyone else when she had always imagined she was better than everyone. But in a way it finally meant she could let her hair down and that she was finally facing reality. She found herself smiling as she noticed the excitement in his voice and the glint in his eyes as he spoke of his horse Lucifer and the five years it had taken to tame him. Samantha was going to have to show the same determination and perseverance if she wanted to have a life again herself. She looked away for a moment, pushing back her hair and then letting it go so that it was back in her eyes as she looked at him after some thought. "Not that I know of. I can’t think of one thing I was that passionate about. Suddenly for the first time she smiled. "When I was younger it was taking care of my brother Charlie." Floods of memories rushed through her head and she wanted to close her eyes as she allowed herself to remember what she had never forgotten but had buried deep in her mind where it could only bring her sadness. He had been such a lovely boy, curious about so much, full of compassion, adventurous, and very observant. He had once told Sam that he took pictures in his head even before he had a camera.

Her eyes clouded over and she looked away as she thought of the year that had come after that. She needed – yes needed - to tell him something she had never told anyone before, disgusted as she was by what she had done and felt she needed to admit it and get it off her chest. "I used to think I was passionate about Dark Magic. It gave me a sense – false sense I know now - of power, made me think I knew something no-one else in this school did, and that I could have my way always because with Dark Magic you can do just about anything if you allow yourself to walk down that path. I got people in trouble, made them turn against each other, made them lose their jobs, caused them emotional and physical pain. And I thought it was clever and that they should know how to defend themselves and that they were beneath me. And now, I regret all that. I wish I could apologise to them, undo the wrong I already did. It's hard for me to forget what I've done – my brother says that by going to Azkaban I paid for all that," she said, cheering up a little at the last sentence. There was certainly no pointing denying that going to Azkaban was the worst punishment she could have been dealt in her life.

"I'm still looking for something to be passionate about. I've wasted the past seventeen years doing things I think are frivolous now like taking care of my looks and how to be a social young lady and also ballet dancing, which was more painful than fun for me because I could never somehow feel the music or the emotions I was supposed to feel and project through my dancing. My best friend is Kris Graas. I don’t know if you know him, but he's stuck with me despite all this." She was finally smiling again at his last comment. "No, you've really given me a lot to think about and also you've given me hope. I wish I had been allowed near horses when I was young. I never knew anyone who loved them so much. And it's not like I've been very quiet myself." She shyly looked at him for a few moments. It was something entirely unknown to her that a conversation with a non-pureblood orphan Ravenclaw could have brought her so much pleasure. He had brought her to her senses, apologised to her, and then told her his dreams, and had listened to her, tried to answer most of her questions the best that he could, and they'd talked about things of a personal nature that she had only talked about with Charlie and Kris. Maybe other people had had those kinds of conversations a lot – but for Sam, it was almost a novelty.

((Yes I could, it would be hard not to! I'm glad to hear it.))