𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 [𝐣.𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫]

2: 𝔡𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩(𝔰)

"It is quite simple, see, Repifors is a countercurse to most transfigurations, similar to the way Finite undoes most charms and hexes," Brigitte explained, watching Remus's furrowed brows. She still couldn't figure out why he was seemingly unaffected, but his presence was a welcome change.

He nodded slowly, unknowingly making confetti with the now empty chocolate wrapper. "But why does Repifors work on most of them? How come-"

"Oi! Remus, mate! Oh, hello Alarie." James grinned good-naturedly as he saw her again, seemingly unaffected by her presence. "Remus, you left your textbook at lunch." 

The only boy who had trouble tearing their eyes away from her was Peter, but he was actively fighting against her charm, which she gave credit for. It was hard, fighting against Veela magic.

He slid the textbook across the table, and Remus deftly reached out and stopped it before it crashed to the ground, surely getting them banned from the library. "Thanks, mate."

Brigitte nodded politely at the three boys, her back immediately rigid and tense. They all looked up collectively as she snapped her book shut, wincing at the loud noise.

"I better get going," She said quietly, standing up to gather her belongings. Peter immediately jumped up to help, and she thanked him, causing his face to flush.

She knew that most of the time, the boys couldn't help it. She was meant to be a seductive creature, able to convince men to do her bidding, but she hated the way there was never an off button. 

The only ways to resist the Charm of a Veela, were either to fall in love with someone else or get to know the Veela personally. Veela were so gorgeous because they were shrouded in mystery, when the mystery fell, so did their overall appeal. 

Her other classmates at Beauxbatons had a lower concentration of Veela blood, which she greatly envied. They never had to worry about whether someone liked their face or their personality because their beauty wasn't as potent.

They never told you how isolating it was to be sought after. Girls, especially the ones at Hogwarts didn't want anything to do with her, believing she would steal their boyfriends. They always seemed to have issues with how she dressed, how she spoke, how many times she'd raised her hand in class.

She could've bought that shirt a size larger. She knew exactly what she was doing, wearing such a tight one. She's such a know-it-all. Getting on with all the boys isn't enough, she has to charm the professors, too.

So? She wanted to ask, So what if I want to wear whatever I want? So what if I know the answer in class?

Because she knew that beneath it all, they felt one of two things. Jealousy or disgust.

She was the epitome of perfect, at least physically, the opposite of all their insecurities and faults. The version of her they'd created in their head was their worst enemy, feeding off their fears from unstable relationships. 

She was antagonized for simply existing, for daring to be everything they'd wanted to be.

Then there was disgust. Girls sneered, believing them to be better because they were modest and read in front of everyone and knew of obscure muggle authors. Because they couldn't possibly fathom that a girl could be girly and also smart.

She was outcasted for knowing how to apply lipstick perfectly in under five seconds because that automatically correlates to her reading ability.

And she didn't know which was worse.

******

"Great, now you've bloody scared her away," Remus grumbled, rubbing his temples. Transfiguration had never been his strong suit, and it was either asking Brigitte, who was a patient explainer, or Sirius, who was surprisingly proficient but an awful instructor.