{H} ot tears stung my eyes. I hated crying after an argument.
Why was I so sensitive? Pathetic.
It was always like this. Whenever I got into arguments, I would always end up crying at the end, no matter how many times I told myself I wouldn't. It made me feel small, and I loathed it.
Every single time, I chided myself. The familiar feeling of tears building up like a dam behind my eyes made my chest slowly start to constrict. I pinched my arm. Snap out of it.
Focus on the pain. You always make a big deal out of everything. You can do this. Hold it in this time.
Yep, definitely not healthy. I laughed to myself.
I stopped walking as I felt the change of air. It was like stepping out of a cozy store during the fall, except far more humid.
"Yes?" a stone cold voice called out.
Crap. I was in a classroom. I was so preoccupied with my attempts to subdue my overly sensitive and incredibly stupid teenage hormones that I hadn't noticed taking a wrong turn.
"Sorry, I didn't realize I walked into a classroom..." my words trailed off as my scar began to burn. "Ow," I mumbled as I brought a hand up to my lip.
I heard the swish of a cloak and looked up to see the man in black. Professor Snape.
He was definitely intimidating.
His expression was strange, he gave me a look of disapproval, but beneath that, I saw a mix between disbelief... and sadness? I couldn't quite read him. I heard of him, of course. Remus sometimes mentioned of him in his stories, but it was always with a voice slick with regret.
"Are you alright?" he asked, sounding hesitant. He had definitely noticed my puffy eyes and bright red face. I noticed his tone was very deliberate, and showed no hint of emotion. "Your eyes," he said in a seemingly dreamlike state.
My eyes? What is this guy on?
"Um, Professor?" I hesitantly asked, "I was wondering, Sir, do you know why my scar keeps burning?"
I seemed to have woken him up from his trance. "Your scar?" He made no effort to continue talking.
I nodded. It was a bit awkward, so I racked my brain of a conversation starter. "What subject do you teach, Professor?" I asked in the most pleasant tone I could muster.
"Potions, Miss Potter. Have you not seen your schedule?"
"No sir." I lowered my head sheepishly. No! I'm going to make a good impression. I have learned from an early age, that good impressions save you from trouble far more times than you can count.
"So, does it have to do with my eyes, Sir?"
"Pardon?" he asked, surprised.
"My scar. You said before, something about my eyes?"
He looked like he was having a silent battle. Finally he managed out, "You have your mother's eyes."
I stood still for a whole second, it was like time was stretched, warped. Like a rubber band, it went as far as it could go, until it flung back and suddenly the words hit me. The impact strong, the blows hard. "You knew my mother?" I whispered.
He nodded, his expression holding a trace of guilt? "We were close, once."
Many people told me about my mother, but it was mostly about the same things. 'Her eyes were green,' check. 'She was smart,' check. 'She looked like me,' Well obviously.
Of course, Remus had told me the most. However, I could see how much it hurt him to bring up his best friends, so I usually kept the lid shut.
The little snips of information that I managed to get from this and that, I had used to create an image of her, my mother. But, this. This was a jackpot.
"Please, Sir, tell me. How did you know her?" I bombarded him with questions.
Snape's face hardened. "It's time for you to go back to your dorm. It's almost curfew."
I scratched my neck, "Um, Professor?"
"Yes, Miss Potter?"
"So, the thing is," I wrung my hands, "I'm not really sure where I am." I let out a nervous laugh. "Could you maybe tell me where to go?"
Snape let out a sigh. "Take two lefts, a right, another left, another right, and two lefts.
"I'm sorry, could you maybe repeat that?" I asked, wishing I had a pen or a wretched map with me. My sense of direction was terrible.
Letting out another sigh, Snape stood up and walked out the door.
"Professor?" I trailed helplessly after him. The silent walk was awkward, so I tried, again, to start a conversation. "I heard that Slytherin has kept the Quidditch cup for a while now." I remarked.
"Hm." Snape replied, seemingly disinterested.
"When I get on the field, the Cup isn't going to leave your office." I sighed in anticipation.
"What makes you so sure?"
"Oh, I'm sure. I'm getting on the team no matter what."
"Oh?"
"I've been flying earlier than I could walk," I chuckled. "It's the one thing I'm good at."
He stopped, and I recognized the entrance to the common room.
"I'll see you in class, Miss Potter." he turned his heel and swiftly walked back.
"Salazar." I said, remembering what the head boy had announced when uncovering the passage.
I walked into the common room, the color making me feel at home. In the corner of my eye, I saw a figure sitting on the couch.
"Lexi?"
YOU ARE READING
𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 ↬ 𝔡.𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔣𝔬𝔶
Fanfiction「 She is scared, but rises above it. He is scared, and hides behind it. She is a cunning mastermind. He finds that out sooner than later. She calls him Jerk. He calls her Moss. She is Alexandra Potter. And he is Draco Malfoy. 」 Both are drow...
