Stakeout. (Ezzie)

[Aimee Sinclair S3]

Aimee sat by the fire in the Student Lounge with a heavy textbook in her hand, covering her face. She was sitting in the far corner of the room, where she had a clear view of everything around her. She barely knew what book was In her hands, for she wasn’t exactly here to read. She was here on a stakeout. Aimee knew full well that Ezzie Mendez liked to visit the lounge frequently to write song lyrics or talk with her mysterious friend Casey. Aimee recognized Casey from somewhere, but that was a different story. She would find that secret out another time. For now, Ezzie was Aimee’s target. It was late on Saturday night, and Aimee was planning on doing what she had never thought of in her life. She was going to follow Ezzie into the Gryffindor common room. In fact, she was going to follow Ezzie into the Girl’s Dormitories. Aimee had already drunk the Polyjuice Potion, and right now Aimee looked exactly like some fourth year Gryffindor girl named Hannah. Aimee’s eyes darted across the room, waiting for Ezzie to arrive.

Finally, Aimee saw the familiar sight of Ezzie Mendez walking through the door. She was wearing ripped faded jeans and the shortest red shirt Aimee had ever seen in her life. She was wearing big black combat boots that looked like they could trample a first year. Aimee made note of the fact that she was also sporting a small diamond navel piercing. Her eyes followed Ezzie to the far corner of the room. She took out a piece of parchment and began to write. Aimee noticed tears brimming in her eyes, and she realized that Ezzie was not working on some ordinary Potions essay, that’s for sure. Aimee took out a small mirror from her pocket and angled it so she could almost make out what Ezzie was writing. All she saw were the two words ‘Dear Ethan’, but they were the two most important words ever. Ezzie was writing a letter to Ethan!

Aimee’s mother had told her about this. She told Aimee that Ezzie might start going to therapy after Ethan’s death. She also mentioned that most therapists asked their clients to write letters to those they couldn’t normally contact. People like Ethan for example. Ezzie hadn’t gone more than two sentences before she really started crying. Before long, Aimee found herself watching Ezzie glance around, get up, and walk out. Aimee followed close behind, but made sure to stay just far enough so she was out of Ezzie’s eyesight and hearing range. She ducked behind walls and statues, and was delighted when she was standing in the seventh floor corridor, just outside the portrait hole. Ezzie had already walked inside, but Aimee didn’t need her anymore. She had the password now. It wouldn’t be long before that letter was in Aimee’s hands.


[[God-moding permission granted by Ezzie.]]

[Esmeralda Mendez]

Ezzie sighed as she walked across the corridors dimly lit corridors. It was late in the evening, and most people were at the Great Hall finishing up dinner. But those who were in the corridors did not take kindly to Ezzie’s presence. The overall response of Ezzie’s presence had changed completely. When she started out, she was completely ignored. She was just another face in the crowd, and even though there was so much going on behind closed doors, nobody cared. They were too busy with their own lives to care about little Miss. Esmeralda Mendez. When she first started to achieve her fame, it was like Ezzie was walking around with a ‘stare at me’ sign on her back. Everyone was constantly crowding around her, wanting to know more about Ezzie’s life story. She gained many new acquaintances since the start of her fourth year. Very popular seventh year Gryffindor girls waved to Ezzie, practically begging for special treatment. She was always surrounded by large crowds of people, talking to her and asking her questions.

But now was completely different. Now, there was no Ethan around to help her cope with all this attention. Ethan was born with fame, and he knew how to handle it. With Ezzie, things always happened so fast. One moment, she was a street rat. The next she was a ‘star on the rise’. And now she was ‘most hated and depressed girl at Hogwarts’. People glared at her, threw things at her, or in the case of most Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws; sent her sympathetic stares. She sighed as she placed her hands into the shallow pockets of her light torn up jeans. She felt so lightheaded and weak, but Ezzie had come to get used to this feeling. She’d been feeling this way ever since Ethan had died. Sometimes, Ezzie felt so light, that she almost felt like she was floating. But that was only on a good day. Sometimes, if Ezzie thought about Ethan too much or just had a bad day, she felt like she weighed a million tons.

Ezzie didn’t know what drove her to do this, but eventually, Ezzie’s feet carried her into the student lounge. Ezzie eyed the bright orange and red marble notebook in her hands. Her meeting with her therapist was tomorrow, and Ezzie hadn’t even started writing the letter she had been asked to write. At first, Ezzie had been convinced she wasn’t even going to write the letter; that it was stupid and not even worth her time. But then, after that conversation with Carson, she knew she had to. Ezzie sat herself down in a nice squashy armchair and began to write. Dear Ethan, Ezzie began to write, but stopped when she felt someone’s eyes lingering around her paper. She turned around quickly but Ezzie saw no one. She started to write again, and before she knew it, there were tears sparkling in her eyes, threatening to come down and make a scene right now, with so many people around. Ezzie quickly got up and started walking up toward the Gryffindor common room. She heard footsteps coming and she stopped for a moment. It would be just her luck to run into Aimee Sinclair or some other unpleasant being right now.

Ezzie sighed. She spoke the password and walked upstairs to the Girl’s Dormitories. She sat down on her red four poster bed and started to write once more. Dear Ethan, it’s me, Ezzie. I doubt- Ezzie looked up from her writing as Hannah Ryan walked into the room. “Hi, Hannah.” She said politely in a lazy tone. She and Hannah had gotten along okay over the years, but they weren’t really friends like Ezzie and Casey were. Hannah merely smiled awkwardly. She was very quiet tonight. Normally, Hannah was outspoken and loud, but today she was very subdued. “Hello, Hannah.” Ezzie said in a polite but obviously exhausted voice. She eyed Hannah curiously as she headed for Casey’s bed, which was on the right side of Ezzie’s. “Isn’t your bed on the left side?” Ezzie said with a raised eyebrow. You’d think after four years of sleeping in the same bed, you’d know which one was yours. But I guess not. She blushed and headed for the left side of Ezzie. It was still early, but Hannah yawned and said she was going to bed. Once Ezzie heard the sounds of Hannah’s slow deep breaths, she continued to write. If Ezzie started crying in the middle of writing ‘Dear Ethan’, then she didn’t want Hannah to see Ezzie burst into tears for writing one lousy letter. Once she knew Hannah was really asleep, she continued to write once more.

((All g-moding of Hannah Ryan (who is really Aimee Sinclair) was allowed of course.))

[Aimee Sinclair S3]

[[All godmoding of both Ezzie and Aimee has been granted for the rest of this post.]]

Aimee spoke the password hesitantly. She thought for a moment that the portrait of the ugly lady would see behind Aimee’s disguise, but was both surprised and relieved when the portrait swung open and allowed Aimee to enter. She walked inside and looked around. She had been in the Gryffindor common room only once before. In her first year at Hogwarts, Aimee spent much of her time exploring the castle. Toward the end of the year, Aimee became determined to enter all the common rooms. After she had caught a glimpse of what the common room looked like, she left and moved on to the next one. But not today. Today, Aimee was here for the night. The real Hannah Ryan had been bewitched into thinking she was Aimee for tonight. When she woke up the next morning, she’d be back in her bed, thinking she’d just had a bad dream.

Aimee smiled wickedly as she followed the staircase up to the Gryffindor Girl’s dormitories. It was still fairly early in the night, and curfew wasn’t at least for another two or three hours. She glanced at the tall mirror the girls had set up in the center of the room. The polyjuice was working perfectly. Aimee almost jumped as she heard someone speaking to her. Aimee waved to Ezzie halfheartedly. She didn’t know what Ezzie’s relationship was with Hannah, so she didn’t want to act weird and blow her cover. She headed for what she thought was Hannah’s bed. All she knew was that it was right next to Ezzie’s, but she had forgotten to ask which side. She headed for Ezzie’s right side, as she would have the best view of the girl and her letter from there. Aimee blushed when Ezzie told her that wasn’t her bed. She walked over to her bed and pulled the covers over her face, so her eyes were barely seen over the fabric. Then she started to pretend she was asleep, as Ezzie seemed to want to wait until she was alone before beginning to write again. She even kept glancing nervously at Aimee.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Ezzie began writing again. Her hand moved across the paper quickly and with ease, as if she had been dying to get those words out on paper. It wasn’t long at all before tears were streaming quickly and silently down her cheeks. Aimee watched, holding her breath, scared she might be heard. Aimee waited patiently. Finally, Ezzie put the muggle pen down, folded up the letter neatly, and put it in an envelope. She tucked it safely under her pillow and settled herself down to go to sleep. Aimee waited a few moments, but when she knew Ezzie really was sleeping, she slipped out of her bed. Aimee swallowed hard. How was she going to get the letter from Ezzie if her head was resting right on it?

[Esmeralda Mendez]

Dear Ethan,

It’s me, Ezzie. I doubt you still remember me now that you’re in heaven. I didn’t mean to disturb you, but I just wanted you to know that I really miss you. We all miss you. But I think I’m one of the select few that really misses you. I think about you all the time; more than I ever did. Your death keeps replaying in my head over and over again. Every time I see you getting shot, I cry for you. I cry because I miss you, I cry because I care about you, but most of all; I cry because I love you. I loved you from the moment I met you. Did you ever believe in love at first sight, Ethan? Did you feel the same way when you met me? I can’t believe you’re really dead Ethan. It makes me so sad just thinking about it. It makes me want to cry, just knowing there were so many things I wanted to ask you, to tell you that I now know will never reach your ears. You just don’t understand. I’m not this kind of person. I don’t fall head over heels in love with anybody.

It’s just not me. But I just can’t sleep anymore while you’re gone. Did you really know how upset I was when you went to date Amber? I couldn’t eat. The thought of eating just repulses me now, as it has for the past few months. Sometimes, I would wonder what was wrong with me. How can I make myself better? How can I make myself perfect enough so you can like me again? I would give anything to see that look in your eyes again. And now that you’re gone I just…I just don’t know how to live anymore. I don’t understand why I’m acting like this. I don’t get why I love you so much. But, after your death, it’s like there’s no use in living anymore. Sometimes, when I’m alone at night, I look out the window and wonder what it would be like if I jumped out. I’m not crazy enough to do it just yet, but I’m sure if the damned media keeps treating me like they do, I think eventually I will.

Do you know what they’re saying about us Ethan? Do you have any idea what it’s like without you here? They think I killed you, Ethan. Can you believe that? They think I’m a murderer. Ha. At first, I found that almost laughable. Me? Murder you? I would never. But lately, I’ve been starting to believe the press. What if it was my fault? After all, if you never met me, you’d still be alive and kicking. Wasn’t that bullet meant to hit me? But that doesn’t change anything. You’re dead and I’m alive. Whether the bullet was meant to hit me or not, it hit you. And it was all my fault. That’s it. End of story. The end.

-Ezzie.

Ezzie looked down at herself. She was a complete mess. Her cheeks were red and tearstained beyond belief, her hands were cold and clammy, and her eyes were red and puffy. She glanced over at Hannah, who seemed to be fast asleep. She sighed and placed the letter in a big white envelope. She wrote Ethan on the front. Just writing his name made Ezzie upset. She looked down at the envelope for a few moments, and tears fell down onto it. The parchment inside was already blurred and stained by Ezzie’s tears, so it didn’t make much of a difference that the envelope was as well. She placed it carefully under her pillow and laid herself down. She hadn’t realized how tired she was until now. Ezzie felt herself drift off to sleep in moments.

[Aimee Sinclair S3]

Aimee stared with one squinted eye at Ezzie, to make sure she was really truly asleep. She glanced around the room to make sure no one was there. Aimee had to be very careful. If someone-especially that Casey girl (who shared a dorm with Ezzie) saw Aimee reaching under Ezzie Mendez’s pillow, she’d have a lot of explaining to do. Or rather; the girl she was posing as would. She carefully slipped the ugly Gryffindor covers off of her, and slipped a thin pale foot onto the floor. She walked silently to the bed beside her on tiptoes; too scared to even breathe. Aimee’s heart was beating out of her chest, and Aimee was surprised Ezzie didn’t wake up from the loud thumping of Aimee’s anxious heart. Aimee concentrated hard on the pillow, and with a burst of delight, her icy blue eyes focused on the small white corner sticking out from under the pillow. The idiot hadn’t tucked the letter in all the way! This was going to be simpler than Aimee thought. Aimee took a few steps toward the bed. Aimee was finally inches away from the bed when Ezzie tossed and turned in her sleep. Looks like someone’s having trouble sleeping Aimee thought wickedly as she held her hand to her mouth to stop herself from gasping. Aimee’s trembling hand reached out to grab the small corner of the parchment. Aimee felt chills rise up her spine as her thin fingers closed around the thin tear-stained parchment. She pulled softly. Ezzie didn’t look like she was sleeping too deeply, so anything could wake her up and blow Aimee’s cover. Aimee refused the urge to scream in delight as she stared at the curved lettering on the enclosed letter. She couldn’t wait to get back to the Slytherin common room and read the letter. She grabbed her wand and whispered a simple spell that changed the name on the letter instantly from “Ethan” to “Mummy dearest”. She smiled evilly and left the room.

Aimee returned to the Room of Requirement where the stupid Gryffindor girl Aimee was impersonating was knocked out on the floor still. Aimee pointed her wand at the girl to modify her memory and called for a house elf. Gregory the house elf had been the Sinclair’s inside man. The elf worked in the kitchens with the others, but had helped both Aimee and Holly Sinclair with anything they needed during their years of Hogwarts. “Gregory, please take this rotten Gryffindor back to her dormitory. And don’t get caught.” Aimee smiled as she looked into the mirror. She laughed maniacly as she admired her reflection, which was finally back to normal. She snuck back to her dormitory undetected and ran up to her bed. She tore the stolen letter open and read. Aimee’s eyes grew wider and her grin grew bigger wth each line she read. This letter confirmed everyone’s suspitions. So Ezzie really did have an eating disorder, she did blame herself for Ethan’s death, and she really did hate Amber Hess. But Aimee wasn’t going to send this piece of gold to her mother just yet. For once in her life, Aimee was going to get the better end of the deal here-not her mother. Aimee hid the letter in a magical puch (that only she could open) and slung it around her neck. She settled herself into bed and fell asleep quickly and peacefully.