Maelstrom ((Disenchanted))

[Jez Cuthbert]

((Set a week or two before the end of the summer holidays.))

One part of Diagon Alley sloped steeply uphill. There were no steps to break the task of climbing it into manageable pieces. Everyone had his or her own way of approaching it. Some people took it at a run, as if conquering it quickly meant conquering it more easily. Or maybe they were just in a rush and had no choice in their speed, whatever the terrain. Others trudged wearily upwards, laden down with packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, the acquisition of new school supplies suddenly turned into a chore. The most cowardly, or perhaps the most realistic, witches and wizards chose to avoid that part of the shopping street altogether or take a detour which provided a more gentle incline. The most popular detour was a backway wide enough for two witches to pass each other - at a squeeze. It veered sharply off to the left of the main street, the start of a loop that led gradually uphill and eventually rejoined the Alley.

A particular cafe located on this very backway had capitalised on the lucrative opportunity of supplying iced pumpkin juice to the Butterbeer-bellies, wizened elders and the weak-hearted general public who chose to venture up here. Jez had learnt the secret of the business from the owner himself when the man in question had got himself very drunk (perhaps with a little assistance) at a dinner put on for important clients and contractors of the Cuthbert business. Jez had taken him aside in order to save him some portion of embarrassment, and had been rewarded with his most shocking secrets. Thankfully, they didn't amount to much more than having bribed someone at Magical Maintenance to cast an Atmospheric Charm on the surrounding area to ensure eternal sunshine. The sun beat down so strongly that that glass of iced pumpkin juice and those bright orange parasols suddenly began to look like a mighty good idea, especially to those already too worn out to venture up the real hill. They did also serve perfectly tasty food at more reasonable prices than their chilled drinks, so those in the know - such as Jez - occasionally chose to come to the establishment of their own accord. Today Jez had chosen to bring his girlfriend-of-two-weeks-and-however-many-days here.

He glanced sideways to check that Olivia was still beside him (he wasn't sure that they saw eye to eye on everything, and wouldn't have been entirely surprised, or concerned, had she wandered off in a direction of her own choosing). Finding her to be so, Jez gave the girl a smile. She was more than tolerably pretty, to be sure, had sharp wits about her, and he was happy to have her around. Of course, she couldn't escape having the unmistakeable stench of a smoker, but that didn't bother Jez unduly. It wasn't overbearing when you were outside, and most wizarding environments had their fair share of smokiness anyway, so that it just mingled into the general background smells indoors. But Jez didn't imagine for the world that their relationship would last once they'd returned to Hogwarts, if it extended even that far. She was a Slytherin, if a fairly reasonable one, and he was a Gryffindor. They weren't supposed to mix much while in school. At least, that was Jez's opinion.

Olivia might not be aware of it, but Jez had already noticed one Slytherin creep from his own year filming them together. And much as Jez had told him to shove off and mind his own business, MacCay had, in his own way, raised a valid point. Any controversial couple was bound to draw attention in a community as closed as Hogwarts. Sure, they could deal with jibes and insults well enough if they were worth it to one another, but Jez very much doubted that they were. He wasn't sufficiently enamoured of Olivia to ask her to endure the reactions of her housemates, which he was sure would be far worse than those of his Gryffindor classmates. (As for any of the rest of the school who felt like sticking their heads in, they could go to hell). Jez didn't believe that Olivia was particularly taken with him either or that she would deem it worthwhile, although he didn't think she'd have too many qualms if she did have reason to endure a bit of hardship. On Jez's part, he wouldn't be awfully comfortable with a lot of publicity within the school. He was well known, notorious, as a result of a few stunts he'd had little choice but to carry out in full view to keep his word, but the vast majority of Jez's ill deeds remained unknown and most of the remaining minority known only to him, some of the teachers and a few pupils. It was only a very tiny minority that became true general knowledge, and that was the way that Jez preferred things. He didn't like being watched. That was why he'd disliked being videoed so very much.

Usually, the bistro that he was taking Olivia to while she still wanted him anywhere near her was graced by flourishing hanging baskets and window boxes from which vibrant colour and life overflowed. Honking daffodils grew in a pot by the doorway during springtime, with an ice bath underneath them to stop them wilting in the unseasonal heat. A reasonably sized cactus in a terracotta pot stood on each table outside, nearly every on of them covered in bright rings of small but stunning flowers induced by pampering and more water than would ever come the way of any self-respecting cactus. They looked wonderful. Customers of the cafe were treated to a true understanding of a 'localised shower' as, two times a day and once at night, impossibly small water-laden clouds gathered over the window boxes (including those on the roof) and dispensed a healthy sprinkling before clearing again to give everyone a chance to admire the miraculous colours of 'nature'. Usually, it was a failsafe plan. But then, that was usually.

Today, however, as they crossed the perimeter from a usual British summer's day into eternal sunshine, they didn't find quite what Jez had been expecting. The stems of the flowers were not swaying gently in the tantalising, unreachable breeze as usual; they were bent low, curved or snapped beyond repair by the wait of the flowerheads they supported, flowerheads that were losing their petals to cruel chunks of ice. People walking along the street were instantly assailed by freezing lumps that were dubiously brown. It was almost like fallout of volcanic ash from an eruption, except that those were usually a bit blacker and a bit less cold. Jez pushed Olivia in front of him, yelling one single word: "Run!" He caught a piece of the strange hail in his hand as he went, wincing at the painful cold as he ran in through the doorway and crashed into the bar. It was quite useful actually; a lot less painful than a wall for stopping. Jez slumped onto a barstool and slapped the hail piece down onto the bar counter. A middle-aged man of middle build, just beginning to show symptoms of baldness, regarded him calmly.

"What happened to the weather?" Jez asked, in the same tone as any routine question.

"I refused to pay any extra tax to Jeff from Magical Maintenance," replied their host. Jez laughed, but didn't bother feigning any sympathy.

"Well, get it sorted out sooner rather than later," he said. "We won't be wanting to stick around for when the roof collapses under tonnes of supercooled dung." He pointed at the warming nugget on the counter, and then leaned over the bar to pick out two menus. He led them over to an empty table and passed a menu to Olivia while a waitress appeared next to them and set the table especially for them. Jez glanced up from perusing the menu himself to look at his girlfriend. "What will you have?" he asked her.

[Ariane Chan]

Ariane frantically pushed open the door of the café with both hands, the rush of blood thumping so loudly in her ears it drowned out the rest of the world in comparison. A few strangers’ heads turned in her direction at the reverberation of her noisy entry, and Ariane spared them no further glance as wide eyes swiftly swept the room. The public’s curious first perception of Ariane Chan was a mature-looking teenager who looked somewhat hassled despite a well-kept stony expression; her falling ebony hair was brushed back in a flurry of tangled tresses; her chest was heaving, mouth parted slightly as she struggled to catch her breath from her physical exertion. Dressed in inconspicuous dark clothes, a long travelling cloak billowing at her knees and suitably covering up her body from shoulder to toe, Ariane wasn’t about to attract much attention. The nosy customers soon lost interest in the girl, and returned to their forgotten conversations whilst Ariane finally located her desired destination.

Eyes narrowing into doubtful slits, Ariane suppressed a mutter of hesitant approval under her breath as she stalked quickly towards the girls’ toilets. Her arms kept her flowing cloak about her and she kept her head down, eyes training into the polished wooden floor, hoping to remain invisible. She couldn’t push away successfully the niggling feeling that someone was still watching her, following her, learning about her. Pushing the door open gentler this time, Ariane marched in with an unchanging indifferent expression, eyes immediately scouring the small, white tiled room with suspicion. The three cubicles appeared to be empty as Ariane proceeded to push each door open one by one and peer inside apprehensively. Yes, she was alone. For now. Ariane caught her relieved face in the reflection of one of the mirrors lining the walls above the sinks, and screwed up her nose in minor displeasure. Clicking her tongue habitually, she automatically moved towards the centre cubicle and shut the door with a resounding clack, metal scraping mercilessly against metal. Ariane’s eyes bore into the dirtied white of the toilet door. This would be her shield from the world for now. This big block of wood.

Finally, Ariane’s face dropped. Away came the nervous creases round her eyes, the permanent scowl that marred her smile, the eyes that attempted to feign disregard. Underneath her visage, a tired battle worn expression leaked its way out gradually, until it settled into her eyes too. Moments later, Ariane turned and dropped the toilet seat shut, the shrill bang resonant against the tiles; she sat down and placed her head in her hands with a silent groan. “Damnit.” She grumbled to herself quietly whilst her fore fingers massaged her aching temples. “Damnit.” Ariane cursed again with fatigued venom. “Damn that guy.”

What was fate implying at? Ariane wondered as she strained to will away her rising headache and biting anxieties. What were the chances of running into him during an innocent short trip to Diagon Alley on her own? Why did he have to come here today of all days? Just when Ariane had decided spending twenty-four hours cooped up in a claustrophobic house was as much as she could take and needed a breath of fresh air. Why did she have to see him? Ariane stifled another irritated groan, but couldn’t quite suppress her deep frown. The last thing she needed was to see Tristan MacCay again, with his arrogant yet charming smile, devilish but twinkling blue eyes, and an inner self so alike to hers Ariane would’ve thought their previous meeting to have been a dream. An incident belonging to the impossible. Only that train ride hadn’t been a hallucination, their exchanged words had not existed from a vision, and his intimate embraces, his gentle touches and comforting kisses were certainly not fake. Even now Ariane’s forehead burned from the memory, and she resisted the urge to raise her hand for the millionth time that month to touch it.

Ariane had supposed she had somewhat buried that memory away somewhere deep in the back regions of her mind, locked them into a forbidden box never to be opened again. Ariane had been so sure the next time she saw Tristan MacCay she would pretend nothing happened; act nonchalant and ignore him along the Hogwarts corridors. What occurred between them was no more. However, Ariane hadn’t counted on glimpsing familiar short blonde short hair and piercing blue eyes approaching her way as she perused along Diagon Alley without a care in the world. She hadn’t betted on halting upon recognition either, nor would’ve guessed that her usually competent legs would refuse to move from their glued spot. It took Ariane several seconds to pry her feet away to turn in the opposite direction, where she had just come from, and flee. No, Ariane had not predicted that she would react impulsively to such a man. Such a boy. How had he such an effect on her? Ariane asked herself as she shook her head in disbelief. She was running into this petite café before she had known it, and the ladies’ toilets had seemed the most suitable hiding place.

Ariane’s eyes looked miserably around at her bleak surroundings. At least Tristan, if he had indeed seen her and followed her fleeing figure, would not be able to extract her from her safe house. Even MacCay wouldn’t have the guts to pry into the girls’ restroom and search her out. Ariane wondered frenziedly how she would face Tristan the next time she passed him at Hogwarts. Or maybe even before then if fate had its way. Would she lose all will again? Ariane cursed her lame weaknesses, and promised to steel herself against one Tristan MacCay. Just because she had blabbed to him all her sorrows, had wept into his shirt and hugged him like her life depended on it, didn’t mean Ariane had to ever acknowledge him again right? And vice versa. Maybe Tristan hadn’t caught sight of her before as he cruised into this peaceful part of Diagon Alley, and even if he had, he might not have pursued her. Ariane doubted such a boy would find any more interest in a girl like her. Would run after her. However, she had exposed almost everything to Tristan, the important things she held to her heart with a caged hand, and now Ariane worried he held something over her; that he would use his newfound knowledge of her to blackmail her in the future… Ariane doubted it truly, but her suspicious side never rested in her mind, throwing scenario after scenario into her conscious, buzzing mind. Giving her honesty was like… giving her soul away, and maybe she had played into the wrong hands. He was a Slytherin, after all, despite what they had discussed. Ariane’s mantra was not to trust anyone, lest it result in weakness and hurt. She had forgotten it completely after so many years on an annual train ride home. What now?

Ariane sat stock still for several long minutes, with only unsympathetic silence to keep her company. She couldn’t bring her legs to stand up and leave for the fear that Tristan would be standing just outside the door, waiting for her to fall right into his awaiting arms… Ariane really did not wish to talk to him. She wasn’t ready yet. So what if she had had all summer to think? She had neglected the topic mostly because it was such a bother and worry to ponder over. Ariane resigned herself to waiting a little while longer… to make sure he would leave her be. A small section of her heart ached however, for Tristan to come in, to find her, to hug her all over again and mutter soothing nothings into her ear like it was natural for him to do so. A tiny, tiny part of her longed for that intimacy again, and it was driving Ariane wild with terror at her own desires. And a minute fraction of her heart wished so much that when she did finally draw the courage to leave this “haven”, Tristan would be standing outside with open arms and that genuinely caring smile of his.

Instead, Ariane drew her knees up to her chest tightly, pressing her hopeless expression into her lap and buried her eyes shut, closing off the world that surrounded her, that held her in its cage. She wished her raging emotions would die away, but if anything, they increased so that the incessant blood banged in her ears again. All Ariane could do now was try and will away Tristan and all related thoughts and feelings unsuccessfully as her own arms snaked around her shaking, yearning body. Her arms were his arms around hers, and all she could see were twinkling blue eyes that shone like the sky, and a smile so genuine it made Ariane's ache.

Ariane suddenly felt the pang of painful loss take her breath away as thoughts of Tristan led to memories of her mother. She needed that comfort and security she provided, right here, right now, but her mother wasn’t alive anymore… There was only innocent Harmony whom Ariane was solely responsible for, a romantically tormented Aurora Ariane was too wary to bother, and Tristan – though Ariane did not wish to count him as an important person in her life. She had gone to the same school as him for the last five years, and had talked to him once – once. People did not become an important person in Ariane Chan’s life by talking to her once. Though it hadn’t just been talking. It had been confessing, admitting, crying and breaking. Ariane shook her head as she remembered the familiar pain creeping back to clutch at her heart. She had successfully willed away her mother’s death and her sore injury as it had gradually healed over the summer weeks, the inner loss fading somewhat along with her physical ache. But there were times like these Ariane couldn’t simply forget. Times when she needed to see her mother so badly, needed to hear comforting words and feel loved and protected. Now Ariane had to protect herself. Even though she had been doing that already for a long, long time, Ariane had never felt truly alone; though now she was, wasn’t she? She was at last her own guardian. She suddenly felt so empty knowing the fact she had claimed for years.

And that was when the rush of tears came. Silent cries which quickly increased into stifled sobs echoing softly around the confined cubicle. It had been such a long time since Ariane had cried for the loss of her mother – it had genuinely affected her, leading her to become more moody than ever, going from floaty happiness to easily aroused anger and a hollow, sad feeling. Ariane hadn’t shed a tear for Lorraine since the funeral, which was over a month ago now, and all those pent up emotions welled and spilled within her. Tristan had merely been a catalyst, but inwardly Ariane cursed him again, until she could no longer “hate” him anymore.

[Tristan MacCay]

Tristan hated Diagon Alley. He had always hated Diagon Alley. Granted, Tristan hated many things, but Digaon Alley was most definitely at the top of his hate list. He wouldn’t even be wandering Diagon Alley if it wasn’t for the fact that his mother was dragging him around to buy his school supplies. Apparently she wasn’t happy with the supplies that he had come home with and so she insisted he come with her, stating that it would be a nice time to bond. Tristan honestly didn’t know where she was coming from with the whole bonding thing, considering his mother had never tried to bond with him before – why should she try now? Honestly, Tristan hadn’t the foggiest idea as to why his mother wanted to spend some quality time with him, but he had to go regardless of his deep desire not to. His frame of mind had been that perhaps he could get something pricey, but then even the sparkling possibility of that seemed to dim as he sat with his mother at the Leaky Cauldron and had lunch. His mother was someone he really did loathe having lunch with. She was always nit picking at him about something or other. Tristan didn’t particularly like being nit picked at, it really took a toll on his ego – his ego which was far too big at certain moments. The only time he could remember his ego not being inflated was the train ride home with Ariane. A small smile crossed Tristan’s face at the memory of the train ride. In all honesty, it was probably his favourite train ride to or from Hogwarts, and that was odd to say considering he had spent it with a Gryffindor whom he had spent nearly the entire train ride comforting. Tristan wasn’t a comforter, and yet he had comforted Ariane.

“Tristan? Tristan!” His mother rapped on his head with her wand as she tried to get his attention. The woman honestly didn’t ever use her wand unless it was for abusive reasons. Perhaps not for abusive reasons, but she never used it to cast spells and the only memories Tristan ever had with that wand was when it was beating him over the head for his attention or smacking his knuckles because he had been fiddling with something he shouldn’t have been fiddling with. Lazily, Tristan rolled his blue eyes to look at his mother who was fixing her blonde hair around her shoulders so it fell neatly, “Tristan…tell me…does it look like it falls naturally this way?” With a scoff, Tristan shook his head and looked away. His mother was so shallow it often made him sick. She tried so hard to look natural. He didn’t get that about girls. They tried so hard to look natural by putting on all this make up. For what reason? Wouldn’t the point of looking natural be to actually be natural? Oh, Merlin forbid it was a foreign concept to women! But perhaps, just perhaps, it might work! Tristan’s smirk plastered itself across his face before he continued walking down Diagon Alley. She continued talking about something that was completely uninteresting to Tristan as they walked past numerous shops. They were just passing Flourish and Blotts when Tristan looked up to see someone he hadn’t expected to see that day about five feet away from him. His blue eyes grew wide and a smile started to cross his face at the sight of Ariane Chan.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t expected to see her in Diagon Alley, after all, it was a very likely place for them to meet. Much more likely than somewhere in Wales, which was where he spent his summer holidays because coincidentally that is where he lived, but for some odd reason it never struck Tristan that he might run into Ariane in Diagon Alley. And now, he was presented with this problem…although it wasn’t really a problem because the moment he saw her he figured he could be civil toward her…nice even like he had been on the train, and he had to figure out a way of getting out of this “problem.” She seemed to solve that herself, however, when she turned and ran from him. Tristan watched her for a moment and then followed her, quickly, ignoring his mother’s protests. He knew that she would call after him awhile, then give up and go shopping, and when he returned home that night he would get quite the earful, but Tristan could deal with that. At this particular moment, he wanted to catch Ariane, to talk to her like he had that day on the train. He craved a conversation with her. He had craved a conversation with her since that day. It was as if Ariane had awoken a part of him that had been dormant for years and now that she had done that – there was no way he was going to let it return to its dormancy. Tristan crushed through the crowd, following Ariane, keeping his eyes on the back of her head so as not to lose her. He couldn’t lose sight of her, he just couldn’t. Tristan actually wasn’t paying much attention to their surroundings at all, he couldn’t if he was going to keep his attention on Ariane and make sure not more than a couple of feet was between them…okay so perhaps more than a couple of feet when some stupid witch got in the way.

She pushed into a door that was off a bit and Tristan immediately followed her, cursing everyone who got in his way and the weird weather –which if he had inspected closer he would have realized it was frozen dung. When he finally reached the door and stepped inside, it was just soon enough to see her head around some wall of some sort. Tristan closed the door behind him and stepped in the direction that Ariane had headed, but his eyes locked on someone who had stood and started in the same direction. Jez Cuthbert. Tristan’s eyes closed and he let out a small groan. That kid was seriously getting on his nerves. Sure, he had filmed Jez and his girlfriend, but the idea of actually using the video for anything but just something interesting to film was something far below Tristan. Jez had apparently thought otherwise, and well, that was alright with Tristan except for the fact that now… now Jez seemed to be following Ariane and that didn’t make Tristan happy. Perhaps he was jealous, in fact he was…he was jealous, but it wasn’t the jealousy that ensued when someone liked someone else and saw another someone follow the second someone to a place that the first someone could not see. No, it was a different kind of jealousy…it had to be. Because Tristan didn’t like Ariane Chan, she was a Gryffindor. He couldn’t like a Gryffindor. Tristan’s scowl was permanent now as he eyed the place he had unknowingly follow Ariane into. His eyes landed on Olivia, Jez’s girlfriend. And who knew what fuelled his next move? Perhaps it was jealousy or something more, regardless…Tristan made his way over to her, took a seat and stared at her a moment before saying with a calm tone of voice that came from him so naturally; “Where’d your boyfriend run off to?”

[Jez Cuthbert]

Their date was all going spiffingly, utterly fine; indeed Jez might even have described it as first-rate. Olivia was a bright girl - not the very most intelligent that he had ever known, nor the prettiest, wittiest, most flirtatious or well-mannered that he had ever met. But she was these things in good measure for the most part, which made her company more than tolerable. They'd been in the middle of a humorous conversation, dipping the lunch on their plate into shared sauces and keeping an eye on whether the ceiling was buckling under the weight of the manure falling on top of it. They weren't exactly a perfect couple, but fairly content despite being under no false pretences about the other's failings, and Jez was happy with this as a way to occupy him during his summer holidays. It was certainly far preferable to what happened next.

It was not in Jez's general nature to show genuine alarm. But that was what anyone looking at his face would have seen etched there, deeply, in the moment that he saw Tristan MacCay making his cursed way into the bistro. It remained there for approximately three seconds, the time that it took him to superficially regain his composure. Following that, he laid one hand gently on Olivia's. "I'll be back soon," he said quietly, and slipped away without any further explanation, trying to shield himself from MacCay's view with the large numbers of people who had felt it wise to take refuge in the cafe while the freak hailstorm passed off. He followed a sign pointing to the toilets, relieved to find that it directed him down a corridor that turned right - hence hiding him entirely from the site of anyone in the front room. However, it also meant that he couldn't tell whether he was being followed down here even now. That unaccountable panic still remained, and Jez being unaccustomed to such a feeling was quite ill-equipped to deal with it. He just needed to find someplace where he could feel safe to get his head straight, admonish himself for his dangerous lapse into stupidity and go back to what he was used to. Right. Blindly, Jez pushed open the first door that he came across, the one that was straight in front of him. A door between him and his troubles. All the refuge he needed.

But he hadn't walked into the gents' toilets. He hadn't walked into a staff only area. He hadn't even managed to walk into a back alley where a thug was ready to turn a knife on him. He had only managed to walk into the most-attended room in the building, the one people were prepared to queue back into the main restaurant to spend a few minutes in. The site of multiple battles and triumphs against toilet roll dispensers, sanctuary for re-applying makeup, and the only place where you stood a chance of being ignored whilst howling your eyes out as though it were the end of the world. The ladies'. There was, in fact, someone already indulging in that last activity - albeit a somewhat more subdued version of it - and it was this that brought Jez sharply back to his senses. He checked each cubicle; only the one was locked. Just as well. Jez had a vague vision of a pack of women ripping him to shreds for invading their private space. But they weren't a danger when on their own. That left Jez free to talk without the huge fear he might otherwise have felt at revealing his gender in such a sensitive area. It also meant that he knew who was in that cubicle: there was only the one choice.

"You know, Annie, there's a whole lot of people are sad in this world, just spend every day pretending to themselves that everything's fine. It's not very helpful if you break the pretence." It wasn't Jez's most sensitive moment. He had it in him, but he was only newly returned to his normal self after his panic, and so hadn't had any time to mellow out. Furthermore, this was someone he already knew rather than a stranger who posed no risk to his reputation. He'd always though that Ariane was somewhat pretty in her own way, actually. Oh yes, he did know her name. It was just that when you shared a large proportion of your classes and a Common Room with someone, you got to know a few things about them even if you weren't in the habit of conversing regularly - and one of the things that Jez had learnt was that she didn't like it much when people got her name confused. Perhaps that was the most sensitive part of Jez's greeting, in that he was trying to rile her. Anger was a very useful way to distract oneself from pain. But however insensitive he knew he had been, Jez wasn't really prepared for what he got in return.

[Ariane Chan]

Ariane gave up attempting to stem the fast flow of tears running down her cheeks, leaving streaks of tears along pale skin. Instead, she just cried and cried and cried. It reminded Ariane of her weaknesses, how vulnerable she really was, but simultaneously the feeling of being herself and letting her real emotions surface was a liberating moment. Strands of black mingled with her tears as one as she held her head in her hands helplessly, staring at the toilet floor with blurred vision. Ariane hated the fact she buried all her pain and sadness, locked them away in a box until the contents was too full and they spilled out messily; she could never fully control herself… she could hide her emotions, but she couldn’t get rid of them. And that… that frustrated Ariane. Why couldn’t she be immune? Forget and not feel? If she could have the choice, she would dehumanise herself so much; Ariane didn’t like being a human being. It meant weaknesses, it meant getting hurt emotionally. Even if she could convince herself she was strong, she knew she wasn’t really. There were still some things… some people, that meant something to Ariane.

The gentle sobbing echoing against the tiled walls drowned out the sound of incoming steps and the door swinging open and shut. Ariane continued to believe she was alone, for she would not be crying so openly, until a voice caused her to freeze, a sob stuck and lodged in her throat. ”Annie?” Her confused mind questioned, doubting that the phrase was targeted at her and caught in surprise at the entrance of someone. Noticing immediately it was a boy, Ariane’s walls erected high and her crying ceased completely. The shock had helped bump her back into reality as her hands quickly wiped away the tearstains. ”Tristan.” Ariane thought to herself bitterly, though she was rather surprised the Slytherin had tracked her way in here… the girls’ toilets… He was in the girls’ toilets! Ariane couldn’t believe Tristan had the nerve to do such a thing! Was he really that desperate to search her out? And she had thought this was a foolproof place to hide.

It took Ariane another several seconds to absorb Tristan’s words, and feel her anger rise at such… such insulting, offensive, disgusting words. How could he? How could he?! Ariane suddenly forgot all self-pity, all loneliness and sorrow, now filled with anger and rage that filled up every corner and cranny of her soul. She couldn’t believe… could hardly admit that only a few weeks ago, she had poured out her heart to this guy, against her better judgement, and hoped he would keep her words to herself and leave her to her own devices. But no, here he was, taking the mick out of what Tristan knew she never did. Just because on both occasions he had seen her crying, Ariane believed that he wouldn’t take advantage of this. She had… trusted him, in her own way; thought he understood her pain. But this… this was too much.

So angry she was speechless, Ariane felt her fist clench tightly as she halted the urge to hit the wall of the toilet cubicle. ”Tristan MacCay, you are a dead man.” Ariane thought to herself, dimming the pain with raging fury. ”I’m out of here. I’ve got to get out of here.” Desperately, Ariane wondered how she’d escape. With Tristan standing outside, she needed to get away, but she couldn’t as he would be blocking her. Suddenly, his shadow fell behind the toilet door as he hovered around, probably about to say another snide comment, or even worse, break into the toilet. Bile rising in her throat, wanting to sick from the trapped situation, Ariane made a firm decision on the spot. With a loud yell of anger, she flipped the lock, flung the door open as hard as she could, and ran for the exit. She didn’t even look back as she heard a pained yell from behind, knowing she had hit Tristan quite hard in the face, preferably. Having disabled her pursuer, Ariane didn’t feel a rush of relief just yet. She had to get out of the building; go home.

Half-blindly Ariane left the toilets and entered the main area of the café, still littered with customers. Fearful that Tristan would pursue her, Ariane hastily rushed through the room, just about dodging others and not bumping into them. She hoped the owner of this place hadn’t noticed her odd entrance and exit. Quickly, Ariane ran right out of the café and down the road of Diagon Alley, failing to notice the manure-covered surroundings of the place, and a flash of familiar blonde hair back at the café.

[Olivia Dawson S6]

Olivia smiled a bit as she walked along the streets of Diagon Alley. This morning hadn’t started off as one of the best of days. She woke up around noon and there her mother was, standing in front of Olivia’s bed, glaring at her with her hands folded across her chest. She remembered rolling her eyes at the sight of the woman. Olivia absolutely hated Laura Dawson, and that fact was known by many people. “Can I help you?” Olivia said rudely. Laura’s eyes narrowed and Olivia’s expression matched hers perfectly. She hated to say this, but she did look a lot like her mother. Her mother had the same fair skin that she did, and her lips were even shaped the same. But Laura’s eyes were cold and heartless, while Olivia’s were always sparkling with mischief. While Laura may look a lot like Olivia did, they were nothing alike. “I don’t want you dragging my daughter around with you anymore.” She said coldly, obviously referring to Olivia’s sister Elle. “God Laura, you act like I kidnapped her.” Olivia said rolling her eyes and getting up from her bed. She pulled on a pair of ripped jeans and a short green tank top. “For the last time Olivia! Her name is Michelle.” Olivia shrugged as she pulled on a black leather jacket and brushed through her platinum blonde hair.

“Same difference. I call her Elle. She likes it. And I’m sorry if you have a problem with it, but just because you say I should stop doesn’t mean I’m going to. You should know that by now.” Olivia said calmly. As Olivia’s black flip-flops flapped onto the stone pavement of Diagon Alley, she couldn’t believe how calm she had been. She was still surprised she didn’t yell at Laura for being so very evil. She remembered Laura rolling her eyes. “Be that as it may; I still don’t want you dragging her around everywhere. You’re not exactly a saint you know.” Olivia scoffed as she removed her favorite shade of red lipstick from a cabinet. “What, and you think you’re a better influence?” Olivia asked, applying dark eyeliner and black eye shadow. Olivia could still hear Laura’s high pitched laugh echoing in her ears. “Why yes I do! Let’s see? Teenage screw-up who’s a heavy smoker, or Head of the Department of Law Enforcement?” She said amusedly. Olivia wasn’t surprised. Her mother said things like this about Olivia constantly. Olivia merely rolled her eyes at her mother and walked out of the room. She headed for the fireplace and in seconds, she was in Diagon Alley. Now, Olivia quite regretted leaving in such a rush, for she had forgotten her pack of cigarettes at home.

Olivia’s head started to hurt a bit, and she craved her cigarettes. But, now that she was here with Jez, she thought it would be just rude to ask him to take a side street so Olivia could go buy cigarettes. She reached into her pocket, hoping to find a stray smoke sitting in her jacket pocket. No such luck. But she did find a pack of gum that might help to soothe her intense craving. She unwrapped one and popped it into her mouth, hoping the craving would go away. It was numbed a bit, but still there. She let out a small sigh as she followed her boyfriend to whatever café or diner he chose to take her to. She wasn’t sure where he was going to take her, but she was pretty easygoing. She didn’t mind. Olivia hadn’t been dating Jez long, and she was sure she wasn’t going to be dating him long either. Olivia was an independent girl. Sure, she liked to have fun and test the waters a bit, but she just wasn’t the type for serious relationships.

Besides, even if Olivia was sure Jez was ‘the one’, it couldn’t possibly last. Jez was a Gryffindor, and she a Slytherin. That would never work out. Hogwarts may have been a giant castle, but in that giant castle was a small community of students. In such a small community of students, the news would travel fast. Olivia didn’t like to draw too much attention to herself, as she would much rather be left alone. She had a few close friends, but for the most part, she liked her solitude. She knew Jez did as well. Suddenly, Olivia felt something cold and hard fall from the sky. She held out her palm and winced in pain as a large chunk of weird looking hail fell from the sky and into her palm. The hail was dirty and looked almost deformed. Jez pushed her out of the way and told her to run. She gave him an odd stare but walked into the resturaunt anyway. A small hail storm was no cause for a dramatic scene. But, she shrugged as she walked inside. Jez looked pretty angry. He too had caught himself a pice of dirty hail, and he slammed it on the bar counter asking what on earth was going on. Apparently, the guy had refused to pay the bill for magical maintenance. Olivia laughed silently, remembering the little girl who had stopped to stick her tongue out to ‘catch the snow.’ If she had, Olivia wished her luck brushing her teeth tonight. Olivia took a seat across from Jez and glanced at the menu. Olivia wasn’t normally a big eater, and she wasn’t all that hungry today. She ordered a small chicken sandwich.

She figured the date was going great so far. Olivia was laughing as Jez managed yet again to make her laugh. It was one of the things she liked about Jez. She never thought he was one of the most good looking boys out there, but he was very charming. He definitely lived up to his Gryffindor status too, which was always a good thing. She still hadn’t told her friends about dating Jez, and she doubted she ever would. Olivia noticed a boy from school enter the restaurant. A look of panic seemed to be etched onto Jez’s face at the sight of him. She recognized the boy as Tristan, a Slytherin in the year above. Jez touched Olivia’s hand softly, and told her he’d be back soon. She gave him a confused look, but watched him leave anyway. He headed for what seemed to be the men’s room. Olivia sipped her water. Her cravings were coming back, but she tried to ignore them. Suddenly, someone sat down across from her. She looked up expecting to see Jez, but found herself staring into the blue eyes of Tristan. “I don’t know. Men’s room I think. And what’s it to you?” She said, giving him a classic Olivia Dawson look. She was wondering why he was so concerned about Jez’s whereabouts, and was even more interested if his arrival had anything to do with Jez’s sudden disappearance. She gave Tristan a look, expecting him to answer.