Her Invisible Disease ((Vincente))

[India Nightingale]

Found it. India's eyes fell on the quiet, empty clearing. It was almost the same as a year ago; the foliage was greener in this season, thicker, making India feel more shadowed yet caved than ever. A deep frown marred her face; her teeth biting her lip was the only indication to the painful resurfacing of those memories. India's hands curled naturally into fists, as though they remembered grasping her wand and pointing it at the camera... setting it alight. It had been a long time ago - a time when India had been deceived, when she had lived a lie. However, the India standing here, in the forest, was not altogether different than the India who had fallen to her knees a year ago, sobbing and screaming at her classmate who had tried to photograph her shame and anger. These emotions wracked with turmoil continued to swim beneath her cold exterior, threatening to burst forth. India didn't think she could contain them anymore. Her self-control was gradually slipping out of her grasp; she was losing to herself.

After a long, hard stare at the shadow of herself lying on the ground, India turned and stalked away. But she did not walk in the direction of the castle; instead, she plunged further into the thick, tall trees and finally surfaced in another clearing, this one larger but with less light. India paused as her eyes fell on it, widening with familiarity, but she soon found herself again and walked forwards with confidence. She had not visited this private sanctuary for a long time... It was as though she was returning home. Familiar feelings flooded India - memories of releasing her anger, her panic, her fear - all of her emotions she had been so scared to admit to. A deep sense of loss and sorrow hit India, then, in the stomach, as she cast her eye upon this place. She had missed it.

India had been wary, though. After the encounter with Gabriel, she had feared entering the forest again. Her personal hiding place had been exposed and she did not feel safe. But now, with Gabriel gone, India did not feel as insecure. However, another reason for her absence was related to another man - namely Drake Manning - for he had taken up much of her time in the last year. Thinking about him made India's blood boil. Her back teeth ground together furiously despite her attempt to control her emotions, and immediately she used her wand to summon the plates. It wasn't long before India was flinging them, one by one, hard, at the stone wall. They smashed like glass against the strong surface, falling like dust onto the ground. India would deftly repair them afterwards, but to break them was necessity; it symbolised her emotions, her inner self. She needed to expend her anger towards Drake, for everything he had ever done to her; the way he had changed her.

Not once did India make a sound. Just plate after plate after plate crashed against rock and broke into pieces. India watched them fall with stone eyes, but her shaking limbs betrayed her true feelings: fury and hurt. They were two emotions India was not accustomed to experiencing, but ever since Drake... everything had changed. India wouldn't hate it so much, though, if it were not for the fact that Drake kept turning her away as she sought for answers from him. She didn't know what to do and turning to him was her only option - bending her pride, succumbing her weaknesses - and yet he continued to be stubborn, to ignore her, to pretend there was nothing between them. It was so confusing, India was ready to rip her hair out and give up; she wanted to scream to the world, demand why she had been changed and yet no answers were given for it. She wanted to know why; why Drake had pursued her, why she was weak with him, why he could never look her in the eye and tell her the truth.

When every last plate was spent, India stumbled backwards and landed against a tree trunk. She slid down it, collapsing at its base and folding into herself, hiding her face in between her knees, unable to look upon the chaos she created. She couldn't cry even if she wanted to; her tears had long been spent, and crying merely frustrated India to the point that she was numb from it. Instead, she shook in her own arms, which held her in a lame attempt to cure her of her invisible disease. India felt useless; worthless. She would not admit it, but she needed someone to prove to her otherwise; show her the point to her existence. India had been silent and still for ten minutes, when the rustling of trees behind her alerted her to an intruder. Her head jerked up in alarm and her mind groaned in exasperation. Why was it her private quarters were always compromised? One could not have true solitude at school. Thoroughly frustrated but drained from her emotional outburst against the plates, India stood up shakily in an attempt to leave. As she turned, though, she walked straight into the person heading towards her.

The impact of the collison hurt, but it was not a major hit and India only stumbled backwards once. She quickly stabilised herself and looked up, eyes narrowed with irritation. Her face met a familiar one, which she soon recognised to belong to one of her classmates, Vincente Faire; he was in Hufflepuff and, as with most of her fellow Sixth Years, India had never ever spoken to him - and she was not about to break the trend. Sending him a cold glare, the most she could muster in her vulnerable, tired state, India prepared to step right past him and walk away without an apology; she feared she would throw up if she opened her mouth - perhaps skipping lunch because she was too emotionally overcome had been a bad idea. India's fists shook by her side as she passed Vincente; she had to get out of here before she did something stupid. She was aware of the broken scenery of plates beyond her back and she wanted to be gone before her classmate could put two and two together and spread another rumour to add to the rest about India Nightingale's insane and infected mind.

[Vincente Faire H7]

An whisper of a snore was all that could be heard in the shade of the oak tree that happened to hide an inexplicably unsocial youth by the name of Vincente Faire. The snore had come from the stereo-typical lone wolf for the simple reason that he had fallen asleep. He was near a small clearing in the woods that he had happened upon during the early months of the school year. It was an escape for the young man, an escape from all that ate at his heart and mind. Before he had fallen asleep, he had silently contemplated his place in life, for so far it had be an desolate, incoherent, and poor place.

He had thought about why he was the way he was. It was an simple question, yet the answer was hard to answer. He was, to his fellow students, the sarcastic, kill caustic, and seemingly non-fantastic man that he portrayed; so why was it that he felt empty inside when they avoided him? Oh sure, he did push them away, always fearing the pain that he knew must come with loss, but why? He had no reason to fear pain, after all, wasn't he experiencing the pain of loss right now? The loss of ones self? Absurd thought though it was, it still could be true. Had he lost himself somewhere in the past; hadn't he once been an happy and carefree kid? The answer was yes and no. He had been happy, or at least he thought so, he couldn't really remember anymore.

These thoughts had churned through his head for hours; he had come to this clearing early on in the morning, and now it was the afternoon. He had been asleep only for about thirty minutes. Much of his sleep was troubled with his thoughts and ideas of subconscious hate. His dreams were the realms of nightmare; not nightmares that regular people had of monsters and death. No, his nightmares were of being alone, unloved, totally and utterly exiled into the woe-begotten world called solitude. He was always saved though by his younger sister, the only source of light in his dreams, and that light was beginning to diminish, for she ould not always be there for him. He was having one of these nightmares when he heard the breaking of plates, and was taken out of the realm that only his mind could create for him.

Vince opened bleary eyes to see some figure about twenty feet from him. Slightly hazy, his mind formed the word, " Huh?" which came out of his mouth as he sat up. His mind cleared when he realized where he was, and he was quickly on his feet. From his vantage point, he saw that the figure he had seen before was that of a fellow Sixth Year, India Nightingale, who just happened to be an Slytherin. He wondered at first what the sound had been, but a quick glance over the scenery showed Vince that quite a number of plates had been broken. Seeing as it was only he and India in the clearing, he quickly and correctly theorized as to who had broken them. The girl was shaking now though, perhaps frought with emotions or just.....well just nothing, nothing else came to mind. She seemed alert though, that he was there when he brushed across a tree. He stepped out behind her just as she got up.

What was he doing, why was he going out there with the source of the disturbance? Did he feel relieved that she had woken him from his inner hell? Maybe, but not likely. Perhaps he sensed a kindred spirit in her. Someone who had seeked solitude, just like he had. If that was so, he was definitely doing something foolish, invading her provacy the way that he was, but then again, what did he really care. She had disturbed his sleep, horrible though it was, she had still disturbed him.

He stepped out just as she turned around, and she ran smack dab into him. He was unmoved, but India had bounced backwards rather quickly. However, she regained her balance within three seconds of the collision, and looked up at him. He saw recognition in her eyes, and this brought an scowl to his face. She sent him a cold glare almost at the same instant that he scowled, which was just good timing. He could see her still shaking as she passed, and couldn't help but say something, his mouth doing the thinking for him. " Oh that's original, destroy the plates that hold the food for us to eat off of. You know if you wanted to be an uncouth barbarian, you could just tell the house elves, I'm sure they would accomadate you." he said, his tone bore the sarcasm that was always so close to the surface of his mind. He had nothing against the girl, yet his mouth seemed to have it out for everyone.

[India Nightingale]

India froze at Vincente's words. Slowly, her head turned to look at him, eyes sharp as diamonds, cold and furious. This was not the right time to provoke India; she was fragile, she could break, and she was not in control. "Get lost, Faire," she snarled, eyes locked with his seemingly indifferent ones. "No one asked for your opinion. What I do is none of your business." Something about the self-righteous, all-knowing attitude of Vincente really riled India, crept under her skin. She felt the familiar return of her old, outward self begin to surface, knew she could not hold back that shred of maliciousness that seemed to exist in every Slytherin. "What's your problem anyway?" she sneered nastily, folding her trembling arms across her chest and erecting an apparently strong defence. "Do you just enjoy poking your nose into other people's business? Spying and eavesdropping on them? How old are you, six? Go stalk someone who cares." India was ruffled by Vincente's presence, certainly; she wondered how long he had been here, how much he had witnessed. Her time here was meant to be spent alone, not with company - not with Vincente Faire, whom she had never spoken to. Why was it that every time she sought solitude, she found an uninvited individual?

India's heart hardened at the thousands of times she had been treated like an object; the times people had made her into a rumour and not an individual; the times they saw what they wanted to see, not what they should try and find. It made her sad, but she would not admit to that. It also made her angry, and that was not only easier to admit, but harder to control. India could hold her sorrow in because she was ashamed of such weak emotions, but anger was different; anger was red hot and when India tried to stop herself, she was only burnt. "What is wrong with people?" India began to rant loudly and furiously at Vincente. "What is so fascinating and fun about torturing me? Just because I don't smile and laugh like you do - just because I'm not 'normal' - it means I can't have a bit of privacy? Why can't you all just get lost?!" India stared into Vincente's emotionless eyes and felt even more angry. Was he ignoring her? How could he not acknowledge her? Was she that insignificant that when she was screaming her heart out at him, throwing her emotions so carelessly away, he could pretend he couldn't see it at all?

"You know what? Fine." India was talking to herself now, mad with anger and hurt as she stalked past Vincente, back to the clearing where she had been hurling plates just moments before at a stone wall. "Fine. You want mad? You want crazy? I'll give you mad and I'll give you crazy. Will that make you happy? Will that stop people from following me around and making my life an absolute bloody misery?! As if life didn't suck already!" India's wand had the broken plates fixed in seconds, but she was soon grabbing them one by one and throwing them into the wall once more, so they smashed for the second time into shards of nothing. "I hate you all!" she screamed furiously, shaking from exertion and anger. She couldn't control herself, she couldn't see, blind to all reason and logic. India was slowly unravelling, and it was no thanks to Drake. Drake. How she needed him to acknowledge her, more than anyone else in this world, but he ran from her and she couldn't take it. "What is wrong with you? What is wrong with me? I'm sick with dealing with b******s, I'm not taking their b**s**** anymore!" After flinging her third plate, India's limbs could hold out no more and she sank shakily to the ground, resting on her ankles. Her eyes watered but she did not cry and the lump in her throat ached. "ARGH!" she screamed once more, grabbing another plate and throwing it bitterly at the wall.

[Vincente Faire H7]

Vince stared coldly, the piercingly cool iris' of his eyes doing the rest of the work that his words had started. He was not surprised when she had turned back, for he had somewhat expected it. In fact he had half expected her to attack him, which was something that he was used to. He sighed inwardly though at the fact that once again, his mouth had gotten him into a situation that he really wanted no part of. Well that wasn't exactly true; maybe he had wanted to come into some sort of contact with the girl, if only for a brief and albeit angry time.

He felt sympathetic though, but only somewhat. He had had heard the rumors about India, but greatly discounted them. He did however think that she to might be in her own little version of hell, much like himself. It was the only way that he could feel sympathetic for her though; after all she was beginning to try and use wordplay to see if she could get under hs skin. Her attempt was lame though, really. Trying to say that he was spying on her, making something out of nothing. All she had done was smash some plates, big whoop! He had been here first, and although she had known it at the time, she was the intruder, not he! Her malicious sounding words would have been better spent trying to scare some little kid. Only Vince himself could create something for him to be afraid of.

He surveyed her quietly as she continued to speak. It was interesting to say the least, to listen to her rave and rant about her own little qualms with the world. Wait, was she including Vince himself in the 'normal' people category? Surely she didn't know Vince, for no one at Hogwarts other than Hagrid had ever seen him smile, and that was only because he had let his guard down briefly. He kept his thoughts to himself though, waiting for her to finish.

Oho! The finale of India's little episode was indeed spectacular.If she had meant to act crazy, she was going about it the wrong way. Smashing plates over and over would simply be considered misdirected anger, and to some people fun. She cursed just about everyone, and when she was done, she was shaking once more. Now then, he could speak aloud those thoughts of his that had been rambling around in his head while she had been ranting around like an angry little school girl.

" You know India," he said in that delightfully cool tone of his, " I wasn't spying on you. In fact you disturbed me." He thought he saw a flicker of anger flash through her eyes, but he continued on. " Oh not in the way that you wer talking of yourself, rather that you woke me up." He didn't exactly know where he was going with this, but he had to ride it out. " Your little tirade just now was intriguing, by all means it was very intriguing. Yet I must point out some things that you seem to have misconceptions about." he said, pausing after he finished. " You seem to be under the illusion that you are someone who is special in terms of being spied on, well why would anyone spy on you? Everyone just about heard your little petty act of what you call 'crazy'." He paused again, this time to let the words sink in. " You also seem to include me in what you deem as 'normal' people. Well, when have you ever seen me smiling and laughing like those people that you so callously categorized me with? No answer? That's because not many have. You may think that it's all about you, but my dear, you are horribly mistaken. Some of us are just as miserable and alone as you."

He stopped there, wondering what her reaction would be to his words. For sure she seemed to be the type to fly off the handle at the slightest of provocation, but perhaps she would now act like someone of her age. This was perhaps the most he had ever talked to someone outside of class, and it wasn't exactly the friendliest banter of words he had ever shared with anyone. Yet, it was the most he had ever shared about himself with someone. His eyes were still cool as ever as he surveyed the slightly irratic girl that was India Nightingale.

[India Nightingale]

Vincente's tone was flawless; cold, uncaring, indifferent... just the way India herself used to be - until Drake Manning forced himself into her life on a sunny summer day one year ago. She found herself resenting Vincente for it; for being someone she could never be again, for being someone she hated. "Woke you up?" she snarled viciously from her position on the ground. She stared up at her classmate with fiery eyes that could easily have burnt holes in hearts. "I don't give a damn if I woke you up! Go sleep somewhere else then! Don't just lay your attitude on other people just because you couldn't get forty winks. The last time I checked, the Hufflepuff dormitories were in the castle."

India's sneer became ever more stormy at Vincente's next comment, which truly crawled beneath her skin. "So you can vouch for everyone else?" she challenged hotly, angrily, carefully but shakily standing, her stare still very much locked with her classmate's. "Who do you think you are? You're hardly a part of that society!" A careless hand gestured bitterly in the direction of the school castle. "Let me tell you, Faire. Just because you've had a prettied-up life with mummy and daddy and friends," she sneered with derision, "doesn't mean everyone in this world is sweet and nice and perfect. People are animals! They hunt, they feed off your pain. You think I just hate them irrationally?" She gave a bark of bitter laughter. "I have enough experience to make up my own mind, and you're just like the rest of them. Even though you say you won't talk, that you don't spy and judge, you do. You're human. You're just like the rest of them," she accused, hissing.

Perhaps surprisingly, India's anger began to weaken; she was regaining some self-control over her emotions, and began to lock them away - anger, sorrow, misery. Her voice reflected the change. "I think," she began in a much more indifferent, cold tone, "you'll find you're the only one in the vicinity. People are too nosy for their own good. If anyone else had been around, you and I would not be alone here." Her glare was sharp, like ice, drilling into Vincente's equally stubborn mind. However, a sneer reared again at the Hufflepuff's statements. "I don't care about you," she said bluntly. "I don't know anything about you besides your house and name, and I don't want to know. You should tell someone who cares, Faire. I don't care about other people. Why should I? It's not like anyone really gives a damn about me." India rolled her eyes and leaned against a tree to stable herself. She felt weak, but her voice remained strong. "People are very good at disguising how they really feel and who and what they really care about. I don't trust or believe anything you or anyone else says," she told Vincente. "They're probably all lies after all, right?" India's eyes, cold as flints, matched her dangerously quiet tone of voice. "You're a liar, just like the rest of them."

India bristled at Vincente's boldness, snorting to cover up the rage that threatened to overflow once more. "I'm not so self-conceited to think I'm the only one who has problems in this world," she hissed resentfully. "Stop trying to act like you know me and stop trying to pretend that you're different. You happen to watch me smash some bloody plates and you assume you know what I'm thinking. Okay, slap some labels onto me, Faire. You're not different than the rest of them. Judgemental, condemning. You're no better so stop trying to be something you're not." India couldn't stop the flow of misery and bitterness that spilled from her mouth... her heart. "The fact I know that I am not alone makes me alone," she stated indifferently. "I don't need other people to know that I have problems. I don't need their sympathy - their fake, forced sympathy. I don't need their lies or their betrayal. I can pretend I am indestructible; people can say and see what they want. Eveyone's happy." She couldn't hide the sneer in her voice. "I hope you're happy, Faire, at being able to tell me what I'm am. I'm sure you know me so well that you can decipher me in five minutes. Very smart, Faire, so very smart. Well done." To add to her sarcasm, India began clapping, loudly and slowly, so the sounds echoed in the forest as she glared coldly at her classmate, awaiting his comeback.