The Snake Pit || Mattheo Riddle

Chapter 4: Bruises and Glamours

Octavia retraced her steps from the morning back to the Slytherin Common Room. Once she made it to the blank stone wall she paused and hit her palm to her head. Merlin, why didn't she check what the password was? She paced back and forth feeling self-conscious. There was no way she would go all the way back to the Great Hall for that. She decided to wait and never ever forget the password again. Growing tired she slipped her bookbag to the floor and sunk next to it on the cool stone. She pulled out her potions textbook thinking revision was the best use of her time before someone saved her.

Advanced Potion-Making,' was interesting enough but despite Slughorn's hope it was far from Octavia's best subject. It was necessary for a future as a Healer and she enjoyed the methodical order of things. It was a 'precise art' according to her Beauxbatons Potions Master but her crone like appearance and her aggressive teaching style made it less enjoyable. Octavia hoped Slughorn's sunny persona translated into his teaching, maybe then she could become quite adept at the 'art'. Merlin knew it would be important for her future profession.

It wasn't until she was entirely engrossed in the recipe of the Draught of Peace when a familiar face merged from the Common Room. The wall shifted to reveal the passageway, Lorenzo and Blaise appearing. Engrossed in their conversation Octavia had got up and called out to Lorenzo before they noticed her.

'Enzo, please, Lorenzo is like getting in trouble,' he laughed as he approached.

'Oh right, yeah of course, um, I just uh, I forgot the password,' she grimaced scratching the back of her neck. Blaise chuckled and Enzo smiled.

'Wiggenweld,' Enzo said helpfully. Loud enough for whatever magic used to identify the password, the wall shifted open. Enzo waved her through kindly. His light brown eyes twinkled with mirth and a heat crept up her neck.

'Merci bien,' clasped her hands together in thanks. And rushed through the passage to the Common Room, up the stairs and into her dorm. Octavia noted that she hadn't seen Gregory Goyle since the day before in the compartment.

The Seventh-Year girls' dormitory was empty except for the sound of someone shuffling around the bathroom. Octavia checked the time. Barely 7:30am she relaxed, sinking into her bed. She felt at her neck absentmindedly. The lake gurgled, the room was a pleasant temperature, cooling her flushed skin. Resolving to take the time to unpack a little she pottered around her bed, transferring clothes into her dresser and the textbooks and extra stationary supplies into her small bookcase. She liked the slow chore of it, not having to think.

She pulled the final item from her trunk- a worn muggle t-shirt. It's soft fabric ran like water through her fingertips. The faded image of her mother's favourite band, The Smiths, was pilling and close to tearing. It was originally her mothers' but once she had died when Octavia was barely eleven years old it became hers. Her father used to tease her that she'd wear it until it was in tatters, but now he was gone too, pain from both of their deaths lived in the thin fabric. Her throat constricted and an ache in her head bloomed. She folded it delicately and put it away, out of sight. Breathing in a shaky breath she shook out her hands trying to rid them of their tremble.

The door to the bathroom swung open and Pansy walked out, eyeliner sharp and skirt high. They exchanged greetings. As she drew closer, she grinned wide.

'Is that a hickey?!' she pointed at Octavia's throat, excited. 'I mean I knew there was some tension but damn your fast Octavia, I'm impressed.' Octavia covered her throat a dark blush on her cheeks.

'N-no its not, it's just a bruise,' she stammered. Pansy wasn't convinced.

'A bruise from somebodies' mouth, perhaps?' she leaned in teasing.