CHERRY LAUGHED SCORNFULLY. who was professor brindlemore to tell her what to do and not to do? professor brindlemore, the famous miss "oh, but it wasn't so hard! or so traumatizing, as you say". cherry sometimes━lets just say, if anyone knew her thoughts in the defense against the dark arts room, she'd have detention until she graduated.
also, as far as cherry knew, didn't brindlemore live in the usa during the major part of the war? with MACUSA, who didn't try to help their some-what allies back in britain? so, no, thank you, did cherry want to be socialising with someone like brindlemore. unfortunately, it wasn't an option to not go to her class. but ...
a two parchement scroll essay about what she liked about the war? was this lady serious? cherry had almost lost all of her beloveds during the war.
their earlier conversation had gone something like this:
"so, class!" said professor brindlemore cheerfully. today was, in fact, august 1998, one year after you-know-who and his allies, the death eaters, had taken over the british ministry of magic through subtle and cunning ways ... like true slytherins, though none of the snakes in hogwarts dared to say a word, knowing they'd be accused quickly by the "brave" gryffindors.
but still ... cunning ... cherry wished she had such powers. ah, well. let her first survive defense, and she'd be fine. "i understand today is a day of ... mourning? ..." the professor sounded so inexperienced with war, cherry thought in a quip. "... anywho. i've got a fun little assignment to get y'all out of your dumps! i am sure some of you will take this the wrong way; but, think━the assignment i am giving you should force you to truly think what you are thankful for."
murmurings went around the room, and, potter, cherry thought distastefully, looked like he was about to suck up. when potter raised his hand, cherry cheered a quiet yes! in her head. "is it a personal assignment?"
"no!" professor brindlemore answered, though she quickly added when she saw his face fall, "but you, harry, i am sure, will be able to find this assignment really easy ... like a breeze. we know what happened during the war," she winked, "now find that fire within."
the chatting lulled to a stop, most allured with the professor's pretty words. "that is right, my friends! your assignment? two parchment scrolls on what you enjoyed during the war. think, my dears."
cherry had felt rage, like lava, or magma, rolling over her, hot, cold beautiful. how dare this woman believe that war had a good side? never once did something good come out of war for cherry. (some might argue love━yet cherry had a counterargument for than, too: war had also messed up her love life.)
so cherry had jumped up. she had yelled. (loudly.) "and you call yourself our teacher!" everyone turned to stare at her, even the slytherins (who all wondered if she had no tact). "on a day of, as you explicitly stated, mourning, you try to bring up the quote-on-quote good parts of war!" her voice cracked. "for many people, war was the worst thing in their lives━don't you spring the 'love' stance on me, because love created in war is not true love! it is rushed!" jumping up from her seat, cherry gathered her things with a swipe of her hand into her booksack, and left the room stopping.
which led to where she was now.
if someone had approached her and said she was stomping angrily, she would agree, and continue, leaving the person in the dust. she was, needless to say, in an un-approachable mood.
which is why when she saw ernie Macmillan, she was in no good mood. how could she be? (well, she knew but still ...) his friends, who probably thought he was all 'manly manish' for even daring to approach her━they were gonna go down, down. "oh, cherry!" and when he said hi to her, he had the fucking nerve to pretend he didn't mean to see her.
"what. the. fuck. do. you. want?" she growled.
"fucking a," he muttered, and cherry resisted the urge to purse her lips. they used the same shortcut for fucking ass, how interesting. not. "so ... cherry smith ..."
"so ..." she mimicked, rolling her eyes. "ernie. listen, buddy, if you want to talk to me, now is not the time. move out of the fucking way, hair."
he raised an eyebrow, maybe intrigued, maybe annoyed. cherry didn't care. "hair? how did that nickname come up?"
"macmillan," she deadpanned. "son of tonsure. tonsure. hair. duh."
"oh," he said playfully, "of course. duh."
"yes."
"right, right."
"so, ernie━you must want something. if you're here to declare your never-ending love for me, go away, now is not a good time," she huffed.
ernie shifted on his feet uneasily, and it finally occured to cherry that her joke could have been spot on. she panicked. (it was clear.) she shifted her weight to her left leg (unclearly), and took off in a sprint.
"i can't!" she yelled over her shoulder. "i'm sorry! i just fucking can't!"
✧⋆· *ೃ⁀➷
hi ernie 👋 love ya too, buddy. (poor, poor ernie tho)
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