Cold

I sigh, morals having changed since last night. Now knowing my years of fighting are over, I wheel across the area. “Hey Lucian.” I say, passing you in my wheelchair. I sigh as I go through the corridor to an empty tower that has been created my room. I pull myself down onto a make shift cot and set my wheel chair aside. “My fighting days are over. In everyone’s eyes, I’m just an arrogant and egotistical freak. Your average Slytherin. That’s not who I want to be. I was meant to be put in Hufflepuff. I don’t belong in Slytherin. All I’ve done is just to fit in. I can’t. And I can’t make friends anymore. I just want to go back to being the shy nerd in corner in the big library at my house. My nose buried in a thick book that I can read for hours. I want this insanity to stop.” I say, talking to myself. I braid my hair quickly.

I look at my leg that’ll soon be gone. I roll up the leg of my jeans. My ankle is still shattered. I was a fool. I do need friends. I need to get out of my head. Maybe I’m not a fighter. I never really wanted to be a fighter. I just fought to protect myself as I don’t fit in while in Slytherin. I’m not a fighter, I’m an artist and a musician. And I’ve ruined my future all because of my stupidity. I’m such a fool.

Lucian watched the girl wheel away, shaking her head as she turned the corner. The curious part of her couldn't help but wonder how she had happened to get herself in such a predicament so quickly, but she couldn't be bothered asking. Messing with people like her often brought ore trouble than it was worth, and Lucian wasn't one to put herself into situations that required more work than necessary.
She watched the other boy she had met the other night, pulling out all sorts of art supplies and setting them up in the hallway. She'd met quite a few apt individuals when it came to art here, and she was surprised to already be meeting another. It was odd; she had never been quite the artist, always far more eloquent with her words than her pictures, yet here she had met so many people who expressed themselves through art already. It had always been something she'd wished she were more talented at, although she'd never admit that to anyone, especially those who were talented at it.
She looked across from where the boy had set up his things, noticing the pretty landscape there. She never would have thought to paint out of a window, but she had to admit, it was quite the brilliant concept. Although the glass may distort the colors somewhat, it gave the perfect vantage point to paint the beautiful castle view.
"So, you came back." Lucian spoke softly, deliberately, leaning up against the wall behind where the boy sat. She folded her arms over her chest and crossed a leg, her comfortable positioning giving her an air of confidence and class.

I try to clear my head by playing my violin. I hadn’t practiced for a few days and it was needed. I take my violin from it’s case and prepare to play. As soon as the first note echoed through the chamber, the music passed through me like I was part of it. I started playing absentmindedly. Before I knew it, the song was over. “It’s been too long. Too bad I won’t be competing anytime soon.” I say with a sigh.

After Last Nights Events
I was in the hospital wing when I woke up. I tried to run away and I started walking on my already messed up foot. I had been hiding the injury for weeks and I ended up shattering the bone structure in my foot. I collapsed outside the hospital wing and I had skele-grow for the rest of the night. But the bones didn’t grow back in my foot and parts of my leg had been grown back improperly. I tried walking again and, having already been a diagnosed anorexic, the bones broke in multiple different areas. By then it was beyond repair.

Present
I put down my violin and sigh. The events of last night still haunt me. I look at my contorted leg and sigh. The bandages around it do little to hide the horror of it. Nothing can hide the dark bruises around the putter edges of the bandages. I close my eyes and shake these thoughts from my head. I continue playing my violin, trying to clear my head.

When Colin was drawing he often forgot that a world outside of his bright and colorful imagination. A world that altogether he considered an undesirable reality. It was a reality where he hadn't seen his father since he was six. A reality where his mother had died. A reality where when he stood up for somebody he was kicked and punched for it. It was a dreary reality in which, in his opinion, he didn't wish to live in. The multiple differing realities in which he drew was where he preferred to live. The worlds and realities that were of his own making were happy and bright. But like any time he had a good dream or remembered some happy memory, Colin had to come back to his sad reality.

When the girl had spoken to him he almost thought she was asking someone else. He was just used to being overlooked when there was anybody else in a room. So when she had spoken to him he'd looked around the hall to make sure she wasn't talking to someone else.

"Y- yeah. I came back. I'm here to d-draw the view." Colin stuttered through the few words he said.

Colin was honestly scared to death of the girl. She looked confident and even a little bit cocky. That was how he usually would have described the people who beat him up because he wouldn't let them beat up a smaller kid. He wasn't automatically assuming that she would be that type of person, but the way she looked was offputting.

Lucian nodded at the boy, taking note of his stutter when he talked; despite the fact that a stutter could be stemming from a birth defect, it often came from an insecurity in needing to soak up around people, or to them. Lucian had never been this way, always finding words to be the most effective way to communicate with the people around her. She'd never know why people were scared of them.
"It is quite the view, isn't it?" She stared out the window a moment, appreciating the colors of the sun reflecringe off the leaves decorating the trees. "I'm assuming you paint often?" She wuestioned, cocling an eyebrow slightly and gesturing towards the various art supplies the boy had spread around the hallway.
She wasn't sure what it was about him, but Lucian liked this boy. Perhaps it was his kind, calm manner, or his devotion to his art, but Lucian found herself interested in him. She hadn't seen him around the school before, something that was curious considering how many people she had run into. It was nice to see a new face; someone that didn't already have a preconceived idea of her, or already have something in mind that they wanted from her.

Colin nodded in response to the girls question and agreed that it really was a quite the view. When the girl had spoken there was something in her tone that made him feel ... he didn’t really know how to put it in to words. It was the feeling he got when he remembered what his mother sounded like. The only word he could really use to describe the feeling was ... peace. Calm. When she spoke it felt like she had a certain eloquence with her words, something Colin obviously lacked. She seemed to understand how to use the English language to provoke thought and feelings. Even though she had only said a few words to him he could see that she had a way with words that he could never have. Not when he stuttered like he had a few minutes ago.

The tones of her voice filled his mind with glorious views that Colin wished that he could paint or even just sketch. He wanted to keep listening to her: one, because she was one of the few people who’s company he enjoyed, and two because of her voice. He knew he sounded like a creep, but he decided to try and continue the conversation anyway.

“Hey, my names Colin. What about you?”

He internally prayed that she didn’t think he was a creep. Though he wouldn’t blame her if she did.

Lucian smirked at the boy, continuing to lean against the column, neither meeting his gaze nor avoiding it, before he introduced himself as Colin.
She'd always had an affinity for names beginning with C, for reasons she would never quite understand. She liked the way they clicked off her tongue, something she could never do with a name as smooth as Lucian. Being as appreciative of words as she was, Lucian found sounds she didn't get to make often incredibly attractive.
She stuck out her hand matter-of-factly for the boy to shake, introducing herself in turn as well. "Nice to meet you, Colin." She smirked. "My name's Lucian Grey." She introduced herself formally, yet with the laid back ease of someone who didn't quite have a care in the world, contrary to Lucian's many cares.
She watched out the window for quite some time, admiring the view from a distance, and assessing Colin without his knowledge. He was quite obviously artistic, however, also seemed to be a planner despite the typical caution to the wind nature of most artists she had met. This intrigued her, and Lucian made a plan to get to know the boy better. What better time than now, as she stood in the abandoned corridor and watched him paint.

Colin's hands trembled as he took the girls hand to shake it. She introduced herself with a formal eloquence as Lucian Grey. He didn't really know how somebody could introduce themselves formally with a calm and relaxed tone that spread a certain kind of warmth through him. He couldn't describe the type of warmth that spread through him. For what seemed like the one-millionth time he'd done it, he cursed his social skills which could easily be described as lacking.

When he started painting again he began to think of what he could do to continue talking to her. He still wanted to see the pictures that she caused him to see simply by speaking. This was how he often prepared for conversations, he'd think for quite a whie before he spoke. He did this so he lessened his chances of being embarassed or made fun of. He had thought that this was normal behavior until he'd told his Uncle Grant about it, in which he'd been told it wasn't.

Colin glanced back quickly and saw that Lucian seemed to be studying him. His eyes darted back to the paper and his face turned beet red. He was used to being study or even glanced at. This was more attention than he usually got, but surprisingly he was enjoying it.

"Er, why are you staring at me like that?" He asked as a spur of the moment question,"I'm not saying that I want you to stop I was just wondering."

Colin continued rambling and regretted speaking at all.

So sorry it took me so long to respond, life has been incredibly busy. I'm back now though!

Lucian snickered at the way the boy was speaking to her, yet not in the way she typically snickered at others. This was a far more carefree and happy laugh than those she typically gave people. Her laughs were typically used in order to mask judgement, yet this was far more genuine.
"I just find art intriguing." She shrugged, continuing to watch the boy paint. Most people would typically find confrontation of them staring as a hint to cease continuing, but even if Colin hadn't clarified he didn't mind, Lucian wouldn't have stopped. She wasn't the type to listen to social cues, despite her aptitude for picking up on them.
"I've never been very good at art, so when someone can do something like tat so easily I can't help but watch. I'm glad you don't mind." She smiled, before moving to sit down against the column rather than stand against it. This was a fairly big deal to her; she often made a point of continuing to stand in her interactions with new people, something that allowed her to converse while continuing a stand-offish air. However, she didn't feel the need to with this new boy. She felt quite at ease for one of the first times since she had arrived at Hogwarts.

The girl, er, Lucian, snickered and explained that she stared because she liked art. Colin bit his lip as she sat down and continued to talk. He noticed that, rather than feeling uncomfortable, he felt like ... like he was at ease. The thought of him talking to somebody and not feeling as though he had to watch his every thought, move, and word seemed almost incredulous.

After she had sat at the base of the column Colin tried to read her. He wondered if she felt at ease with him as he did with her. And, if Colin had read her correctly, she did seem to be at ease. Dozens of questions popped into his head. 'was she liked this with other people?" and many more. He decided to use some of that Gryffindor courage he supposedly had and ask her his most burning question.

"Do -do you want me t-to show you how to, er, do it?" His voice wavered as he spoke and he felt like a fool.

After having spoken he felt as though what he had asked was rather a stupid question. Why would Lucian want to learn how to draw? she only said that she liked your art because she was trying to be nice. All these derogatory thoughts swirled around in his head as he waited for her reply.