Open Continuation Cleaning Up the Mess

After the little scene in the Small Hall, Brielle felt almost obligated to follow him to wherever he had been going. It might have seemed silly, but she was genuinely concerned. It wasn't particularity a Slytherin trait to care for others, but honestly everyone has something that separates them from their houses. After all, they weren't perfect.

Brielle immediately followed Piérre to the second floor, the doors to the toilets swinging open. As she approached the creaking door of the bathroom, she head a scream. It belonged to no other than an irritated first year known as Piérre. The scream rattled her, and caused her to stagger back a bit. Maybe it had been a mistake to follow him. Maybe he didn't really like her..

She shook her head, entering anyway. If that was how he felt he could simply tell her that to the face. As she glanced around the abandoned toilets, she noticed Piérre leaning over the sink, and a girl, Duna, staring directly at him, her books appearing to be scattered across the floor.

Her hand seemed to be placed on his shoulder, just as Brielle's had been back in the Small Hall. She sighed and muttered a few words to herself, resembling a slight prayer. She rushed over to the sink he had been staring at, her eyes meeting his in the mirror's reflection. There was dried blood on his chin, and his facial expression was enough to scare anyone.

For the second time now, her eyes softened and she steadied her voice. It wasn't much, but she figured it was enough to calm him down.

"Why what?"

She said quietly, a small quiver in her voice that only those who knew her well could notice. She looked and sounded calm, but really was just as scared as he.

Interacting with @Brielle Gray & @Duna Nixis

NOTE: FEELING DEPRESSED, READ AT OWN PREFERENCE

The light touch of gentle fingertips on Piérre’s shoulder caused them to unintentionally shake with a small sob.  His heart became hollow as he recognized the quiet hand which belonged to the person behind him.

He wanted to curse himself as he looked into the soulful, worried eyes of Duna.  Even when he had first met Duna, her eyes had been such a point of curiosity to Piérre.  He supposed it was partially because she had no words to express herself with that it caused her eyes to sparkle ever the brighter to make up for those lost intonations.

No... no...”  He choked, shaking his head and trying to look back at the ground again.  ”Don’t look at me like that...”  All he wanted was not to be judged.  He didn’t want Duna to think any differently of him now.  He had never been given so much attention by his peers in the past, and he didn’t want to start now.  He didn’t even know how to interact with children his own age, let alone those who were worried about his wellbeing.  ”I don’t deserve it...”  His voice quietly faded away.

Another sound of footsteps int he shallow waters of the flooded toilet (props of Moaning Myrtle), and Piérre looked up in time to see Brielle, who Piérre had abandoned so rudely in the small hall draw close to him and Duna.  Unlike how Piérre saw her before, Brielle seemed to show her concern more openly now, even though her voice still seemed as calm and collected as before.

"Why what?"

Piérre looked between Duna and Brielle, unsure of how to begin, before he couldn’t stop himself.

You know the feeling when there are so many emotions bottled up inside of you, and you do not possess the ability to comprehend them, and let alone control them?  The feeling that causes your heart to turn into a black hole and your stomach to roil with so much nausea you wish to throw up and never stop?  It’s the same feeling that causes your head to hurt as you begin to cry uncontrollably, as you release the emotions you have held inside for so long that you can’t remember when you first stopped them from leaving you.  It’s the same feeling that never seems to leave, even after the tears are dried and the consolations are cemented.  It’s a sadness you can’t forget, and it’s a sadness that almost seems to devour you from the inside out.  It takes all joy and shatters it, spreading the shreds which remain to the unmerciful wind.

That was what Piérre felt as he could no longer prevent the tears from trickling down his cheeks.  Silent sobs echoed in the bathroom as Piérre buried his face in his hands.  The harder and the longer he tried to cover up his anger and sadness, the more viciously it came out in the end.  He tried so hard to keep people at a distance by using humor and insulting them to prevent them form coming close, but all it did was bring them closer to him.

”Wh_Why did you guys come for me?”  He finally managed to sniffle as his breaths came in short gasps.  He hadn’t cried in so long, four long years, and now here he was, in an abandoned girl’s bathroom, burdening two children his own age with his life problems.  They didn’t deserve it.  ”You don’t need to be here...”

Piérre’s shaking legs gave out and he collapsed onto his knees on the tile floor, not permitting himself to look up at the two girls.  He didn’t want to answer Brielle’s question, he really didn’t...  But...

He really wanted to.  He wanted to spill his soul out and have it be rent to pieces.  He had nothing left to be torn from him.

”Anniversary...”  He finally whispered, so quiet it was almost unheard.  His shimmering green eyes met Duna’s first, and then settled on Brielle’s.  ”Anniversary was a month back...”

He shook his head, biting his tongue as he regretted his words.  He stared down at the floor, watching as he twisted the Slytherin green robes he was wearing between his two nervous hands.  Was this what it felt like to be sad?  To have no hope?

To have a wish to cease to exist?

@Piérre Marchonné @Duna Nixis

Interacting with: @Duna Nixis @Piérre Marchonné @Brielle Gray

Disclaimer:  To explain the first paragraph a little - Quinn's agender, which means they neither identify as female nor male. They use the pronouns they / them. Their sex (defined by sexual organs assigned at birth) is female.

Quinn usually came to the abandoned toilets to do their business. Their gender identity sometimes made things way more complicated - no, they corrected themselves, it's the people who think that the world has to be divided into male and female who make it complicated. Whatever way someone might choose to regard the affair, like many public places, the toilets of Hogwarts were labelled. The outline of a figure in a knee-long dress - sexist even for those who identified as female, since when did girls only wear dresses? - indicated the toilet for the female students, while their main counterparts were directed to a different bathroom marked with a person in the same style, but without the skirt, etched onto a brass plate at the door.
This lavatory, however, seemed to be free for all genders - they had seen boys and girls go into it, and even though the place was never spotless and the mirrors were cracked, they always went there to stay true to their identity. It was irritating enough that the dormitories were divided in the same way.
Quinn normally just went into a cubicle, hitched up their robes, peed, flushed, washed and disinfected their hands and walked back out, like everyone would normally do. 
However, this time was different.
Only a few seconds after they had locked their cubicle, someone entered. Quinn, who hadn't gotten around to sitting on the toilet seat yet, abandoned their initial plan and crouched down to peer through the crack under the door - someone in green clothes, which at once made them decide to remain in the cubicle until the person had left. They positively loathed the purebloods of Slytherin, snobby, conceited and racist as they were. 
However, when the student started yelling, Quinn recognized the voice of Piérre, a fellow Gryffindor whom they had encountered at the Hufflepuff party. It was just one word that rang in their ears and broke the silence of the empty toilets. "WHY?!" 
They could hear paper crackling and noticed that six crunched-up balls of toilet paper were now littering the floor, soaked with crimson blood. Was the boy hurt? Quinn jumped to their feet in alarm, ready to unlock the door and rush to his aid, but something made them freeze in their tracks. 
Footsteps.
The door creaked open, Quinn sat down and lifted their feet up onto the toilet seat as not to arouse suspicion. Someone entered, and judging from their steps, they were walking towards Piérre. Quinn half expected a comforting, friendly voice, but nothing came - until a third person entered, a girl, as the Gryffindor locked in the cubicle could easily conclude from her high-pitched voice. "Why what?" she asked, relating to the boy's yell earlier. Even though the question could have been interpreted as rather intrusive, her tone was friendly, not hostile.
However, sobs suddenly echoed through the room, Piérre's, Quinn assumed. "Why have you come for me?", he choked, leaving the first-year startled. A bizarre question - they had assumed that the two newly arrived students were his friends, it certainly appeared that way, wouldn't it be completely natural for someone to try and look after a friend?
Muffled by the toilet door between them and Piérre's sobbing, Quinn couldn't understand anything, but one word clearly stuck out, something which increased their confusion by far. "Anniversary..." They couldn't think of any anniversary which would cause such a reaction - shouldn't anniversaries be happy moments, like a birthday or a wedding anniversary? And yet here he was, sobbing, crying desperately, and Quinn had no idea how to react. 
The two girls crouched down next to him, trying to comfort him, telling the boy that they cared about him, which cemented Quinn's impression of them as his friends. 
This was the moment when the Gryffindor decided to exit the cubicle. 
Trying hard not to cause the lock to make too much noise, she turned it, and the wooden door swung open. 
Without saying a word, Quinn straightened their robes, walked over to the three who were now embracing each other in a cosy-looking group hug, and tentatively reached out for Piérre's hand - it was cold, his fingers long and slender. They caressed it fondly while murmuring a quiet "It's okay, you're safe, we're there for you", hoping to be comforting. 

Interacting with @Duna Nixis, @Quinn Prescott & @Brielle Gray
Duna, that’s a wonderful idea. I’m so sorry for any offense I could have caused and I will edit accordingly!

A hand took Piérre’s and he looked up to see Quinn, whom thus far he had shared a... rocky relationship with in the past, quietly telling him that everything would be okay. Everyone around him was so comforting. They had no reason to be there. Piérre could handle on his own. He knew better than to act on his sadness, and he had developed methods to make himself feel better. Read, write, sew... countless ways to shift his mind from how he felt now.

But somehow, being with other people was better than being alone. It felt good to know that others worried about his grief. It was a blessing to know that even though he didn’t have much family close to him anymore, he had friends as kind as family.

Somewhere, resonating deep inside, Piérre knew that now it was okay to relieve himself of the burden which had held heavily on his being for four long years. Nobody here would judge him. Maybe it would let them understand him a little further too.

”I... My foster Muggle parents died... four years ago in a motorcycle and car crash. The car wasn’t watching, it was a lethal hit.” Piérre’s senses filled with the scents of burning rubber and gasoline fumes. ”They died instantly... but... I felt them die. Me and Romeo were in our apartment when it happened, but somehow... I... I knew.” Piérre put a hand to his chest, over his heart. ”In here. I’m not a Seer, but... I knew when they were gone.”

He laughed bitterly, remembering his week in a foster home before Maddie adopted them. ”Maddie tries so hard to be a mom, but she’s not like the Muggles were. She’s the older woman, Duna, you remember?” Piérre looked at Duna to see if she remembered the encounter at King’s Cross.

”I know it wasn’t my fault...” Piérre said, shifting and putting his knees to his chest and slowly rocking. ”I know that I’m not to blame for the stupidity of Muggles and others, but... I can’t get over the feeling that if I just could have controlled my magic... If I had mustered enough force... I could have stopped it.” Piérre’s eyes softened as he watched the water on the floor from Myrtle’s flooded stall. ”The bursts were so powerful... uncontrolled...” Piérre’s voice was no louder than a whisper. ”If I could have channeled it... just that once... maybe the Bianchis would still be alive... Maybe Romeo and I could still be here in school together... Maybe the reason why we were abandoned was because me and Romeo didn’t show our magic in time...”

Piérre’s throat tightened. So many what ifs. What if this, what if that... But they were all true. If he had been able to use this magic for something other than destruction and uncontrolled outbursts, maybe he could have done something that would have changed his life. That was why he was here. He wanted to learn how to use his magic, to improve the lives of others and to help others who had been like him, not to seek power or personal gain. He would never with his guilt or regret upon his worst enemy, and he hoped that the others understood that.

”I shouldn’t be complaining or claim that I’ve been though terrible things, but it’s not the experience which hurts a person, it’s the torture they put themselves through after the matter. The effects of Crucio have nothing compared to the pain that the individual feels in regret and guilt, because unlike the Unforgivable Curse, guilt and regret have no countercurses or ways to damp the pain.” Piérre let out a shaky, yet relieved sigh. ”But having you all here is what matters. I’ve never had living friends before. Is this what it’s like to be a child?” By this time, it was no longer tears of sorrow which covered Piérre’s cheeks, but tears of relief and bittersweet joy.