27- Tom is a Stalker

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Francis Day was worried.

Scratch that— worried was, in fact, an extreme understatement. Frankie had not seen his best (and only) friend all weekend, not to mention, she had not turned up for breakfast— nor any of her Monday classes. At first, he had just come to the begrudging conclusion that Aurora was simply ill— on her moon days, as she referred to them, wanting for Frankie to fit in when he had his own sickly moon days.

He had waited an entire week. Having lived with Rory for quite a few years, he knew that a woman's... lady time... lasted approximately a week. However, once that week turned into two, Frankie deduced that something was wrong.

He would do anything for Aurora Malfoy, Pink, whatever the hell she chooses her last name to be. How could he possibly be anything other than downright loyal to her after she had saved him from so much? This is the reason why Frankie found himself forcing his shaking feet down to the dungeons, hoping one of the Slytherin's will be kind enough to let him in somehow.

Growing up, Frankie had been an incredibly lonely child. Living at Wool's Orphanage, he was just another face, another mouth to feed. The caretaker, Mrs. Vaticane, had informed him that Francis was dropped on the Orphanage's doorstep one freezing winter night. No note, nothing. Mrs. Vaticane had given him his name, as well as the first home he'd ever come to know.

It was a lonely home indeed.

Frankie wasn't always such an introvert. He never used to stutter each time he tried to form a sentence. No, when he was first growing up, Francis was actually quite outspoken. He was friendly and kind to the other orphans, resulting in him making many friends amongst the sea of parentless children.

It was when he turned around eight that everything changed. He remembered the incident to this day. He and the other children were out playing in the courtyard. It was snowing, and the kids wanted desperately to play around in the fluffy white clouds of snow. A girl he was friends with, Sally Henchman, had accidentally tripped over a stray tree root, not seeing it under the blanket of heavy snow.

She had started to fall face first, and Frankie remembered that Sally had somehow stopped falling in midair, her pointy nose mere inches away from the cold ground. He remembered feeling a warm buzz in his veins as she was gracefully set right back on her feet, which were wearing hot pink winter boots.

It was at that point when the label "freak" had been the only term used to describe Francis Day. Ever since then, the kids— his friends, each turned their backs on Francis. He couldn't understand it. He'd somehow saved Sally Henchmen from falling flat on her face, and yet, he was being punished for it from his own peers?

He still had white scars on his knuckles from the unforgiving swat of Mrs. Vaticane's steel cane every time one of the other children would lie and say that Frankie had hurt them, just so they could watch the freak be punished. It was miserable, he would never admit it out loud, but Frankie used to cry himself to sleep after a full day of relentless bullying by the people who he once considered friends.

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