Shut Up, Padfoot!

68

Sweat trickles down my shoulder blades. The brightness of summer haze bore deeply into my closed lids. I sighed and adjusted my hair, tucking it behind my collarbone.

"You're a Sagittarius, aren't you?" I questioned.

The sound of the creaking chair Pandora sat in came from my left. She cleared her throat and I smiled slightly. Plastic lining in my own seat warmed under my weight. My forearms lightly stuck to the armrests.

"Yes," she replied.

Makes sense. This scene is oddly familiar. A wash of deja vu covered my head. The blazing sun of August, unanswered questions, and a longing for love. Four seasons ago, the beginning of the false end.

My eyes fluttered open, taking in the overwhelming view of the Freewill's backyard. Flowers seem to blossom more this year. The year before, dead buds prematurely shriveled in foreshadowing of following events.

The netting fence skid on the frame when it was pulled back. Resounding when it was pulled once more to trap us in the outside. Soft footsteps in grass, sinking into the greenery.

"Just taking a guess... Scorpio?" I asked.

Xenophilius side eyed me and I grinned smugly. Pandora lowered her lids and an endearing smile encased her lower face. He hovered behind her chair. His hand tracing her jaw barely then resting on her shoulder.

My lip curled in disgust and I tore my gaze away. I reached for my book on the table, pushing it further away from the edge. The Bluest Eye sparkled under the sun rays. My glance scanning the title to the author like I have countless times before.

Love is...

For me, to say these words, will come out in purity. Because a love I've experienced, it was of the purest kind. When I've seen the depths of hatred, I've reached into the cool white of love.

But I've witnessed those who've fallen in love and fell harder when darkness shrouded their hearts.

I think there is love in anyone. Even Tom Riddle. And honestly, hatred is just absence of love. It was there before and there will always be a way back. He just needs to take it.

But love is never any better than the lover. [1]

"Taurus?" Xenophilius finally said.

The playfulness from my smile fell and I looked at him. "Do I seem like a Taurus to you?"

He didn't reply. His glance shifted away from me and he stared into the distance. I rolled my eyes. He really doesn't give a shit, true Scorpio right there.

"I'm an Aries," I added.

"I'd hate to disturb this conversation on astrology- but I just remembered. I have my nonna's spell books," Pandora intervened.

I threw my head back on the chair, cringing when my hair stuck to my neck. She folded her legs over and scoot more to one side of the seat. Her boyfriend sat on the emptier armchair, resting his arm along the back.

"Yeah? Did you find anything that'll explain what's been happening?" I asked.

"No. But I've been learning the Pride requirements. I think I can get some understanding when I learn more," she continued.

Tingles from my fingertips traveled up my hands. I clenched my fingers into my palm and ignored it. Probably just ghost feelings, habits I picked up before the spell broke.

"You didn't start yet?" From how she's talking, I'm assuming she hasn't.

"No.. I've been a little distracted," she responded.

I chuckled, making eye contact with her. Her platinum hair hung in her face, spilling from her claw clip. Baby hairs clung to her temples, dampened. Since he was inches away, I peered at Xenophilius. He narrowed his eyes almost unnoticeably. But when you're me, having to pick up social cues to figure the severity of the situation, you notice it.

"You mean scared?" I corrected.

"A little difficult when I've got you injured in the house," she politely explained.

"She means she can't get your death out of her mind," he cut in.

The corner of my mouth lifted. My back separated from the chair and I turned fully to them. Nails tapping on the embossing of the B on 'Bluest.' Before I said anything too aggressive, I flickered my look between them.

"Mm, okay. We'll get started later today then," I concluded.

Swiftly, I snatched the binding of the book.

My shoes pressed into the ground and I pushed the chair back as I stood. The tension rode up my throat when I walked passed them. I grit my teeth and approached the screen door.

Inhaling sharply, I pulled it back. And just as quickly, I slammed it shut behind me.

What the hell am I doing?

A couple months ago, I was the deciding factor of life and death. I spent everyday wondering if it was the last.

Now, I'm getting upset over a petty little argument that hasn't even happened yet.

It doesn't even matter. My emotions just piped hot over something so insignificant. This isn't like me. I don't know what I've been doing wrong lately. Or maybe I'm not doing anything wrong. Maybe it's just the crazy change from supernatural to ordinary.

Maybe...

The one thing that made me special is gone and I'm upset about it.

I could go on for hours that I'm so relieved I'm not a strega mortale anymore. I don't have to worry about hurting others, simple spells blowing up, the tether with Tom.

In reality, I'm angry. I'm angry that I'm normal. When I could go between pink to green to purple hair colors or grey eyes. Other times, lighting all the candles in the Great Hall with just the flick of my wrist. Utterly ordinary.

I lost something that Sirius fell in love with. Even something that I fell in love with.

"Might as well be a muggle," I muttered to myself.

I kicked my shoes off, throwing the book on the dining table on the way inside. I hate it here. I want to go back. Burdens of Crystallia Phoenix have grown in such mundane ways.

-lana
im slowing the pace bc yes

footnote:
[1] a quote from the book: The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison