A Bit of Christmas Cheer PV Closed Errand

@Bridget Collins

Sneakers pounding down the corridors outside of her common room, Thora stifled a yawn, resisting the urge to rub at her bleary eyes. She paused, shaking her hastily brushed brown hair in an attempt to make it look just a little better. Why was her hair so tangled? It was just another one of those senseless questions that Thora kept asking herself just to take her exhausted brain off the topic she feared the most. The Masquerade Ball. The night that had ruined everything, yet changed so much in Thora for the better. The horrible, traumatizing event that had kept Thora from sleeping for over a month now, yet boosted her confidence and at long last provided her with opportunities. The Slytherin had quickly forgotten everything--well, most things--positive that had happened there as horror after horror plagued the students. It had been over a month, but Thora still wasn't even close to coming to terms with it. In fact, she wasn't sure if that would ever happen.

Strangely enough, this was why Thora found herself sprinting up Hogwarts' staircases--well, as fast as she could. The ball had damaged more than just herself. It had damaged her relationships--her existing ones--just as much as it had helped ones that were just budding. To be exact, it had created a rift in her tender friendship with Bridget Collins. It had been partially her fault, as Thora had made a point to avoid her in the first few weeks following the disastrous ball. However, there were different ways of dealing with trauma and stress. That was just Thora's way.

So, when Bridget had wanted to do an errand with her, Thora couldn't refuse. True, she was a little scared, but she was paranoid of everything. The slightest moving shadow or smirk scared the girl. She didn't know how she felt about spending time with Bridget, alone in the corridors. Her point wasn't to make her friend feel bad, but Thora just wanted to be alone with her thoughts. But something inside her broke when she thought of refusing. She couldn't reject Bridget. After dealing with her stress alone for so long, Thora was still too scared to share it. On the other hand, she had simply been alone for much too long. There was only so long that could happen. And so the scared, sleepless little girl went.

Dressed in comfortable, casual clothes--a dark green hoodie on top of black jeans--that made her feel the slightest bit better, Thora panted as she climbed a last set of stairs. She clutched a long roll of paper that didn't prove the best for painting, but sometimes canvases just weren't big enough for certain purposes. She and Bridget had talked a bit and they had decided on painting. After all, they both had a penchant for art, so why not make use of it?

Her bag was stuffed with a couple canvases she had brought along just in case, along with a sketchbook and several pieces of paper. Her set of paints had been carefully packed away and stowed in the bag also, which was near bursting. A handful of paintbrushes had been stuffed in her thankfully quite large pocket hoodie pocket. It was all Thora could do to hope that those she had randomly picked would suffice, as she had been in quite a hurry that morning. Such a hurry that she hadn't remembered to do many things until the last second.

As the young snek finally reached the second floor, where the girls had decided to meet, she paused. Was she ready for this? Thora almost laughed at her own paranoia--after all, hadn't she completed an errand just like this with an almost-stranger? Well, she wouldn't consider Saskia a stranger, but she was definitely closer with Bridget than she was with the Hufflepuff--for now, at least. But was she actually ready for this? Thora had finally caught a few minutes of sleep--plagued with nightmares, of course--and hadn't been able to bring herself to climb out of bed until much later than usual, having woken up quite early on in a cold sweat. She hadn't wanted to wear robes either, as it was a Sunday, so she had grabbed a hoodie and a pair of jeans without a second thought.

"Hi, Bridget," Thora greeted her friend, trying not to sound exhausted. It was pretty obvious she was tired, with the sunken shadows under her eyes, but if Bridget was willing to do this errand with the shell of the girl Thora once was, she would have to be positive as well. "Yeah, I brought my stuff," Thora answered, dropping them all onto the stone floor rather dramatically. She never really had much aptitude for drama, but she was in a mood. "So… We gonna get started?" Thora asked, kneeling down and taking out her paints and a large paintbrush. "What should I paint first?" Thora didn't mean to sound terse or rude in any way, but today just wasn't her day for positivity. With Bridget, she was sure her mood would improve. But now wasn't the time--not yet.

Word Count: 854/200
Total Word Count: 854/1000
Posts: 1/5

@Thora Larkston

Bridget nodded in approval at Thora's supplies--several paintbrushes, a long roll of paper, and assorted paints with red and green in their midst--exactly what they needed. The other snake's dramatic display of laying the supplies out was quite uncharacteristic, but then again neither was her messy hair and obvious exhaustion. Since the Masked Ball, Thora hadn't really been, well, Thora.

The other girl didn't waste a second in kneeling down and asking if they were going to start. The way she moved on so quickly stung a bit, almost as if avoiding Bridget, but she reminded herself that it wasn't on purpose. Joining her friend on the floor, the brunette dug out the tinsel, ribbons, tape, and scissors. She tried to come up with a joke to lighten the mood but nothing came to mind. Words had never been her strong suit anyways. The Slytherin contemplated giving Thora her Christmas present right then and there. The mood didn't seem quite appropriate, though, so she decided to do it later.

Gathering her thoughts, Bridget cleared her throat. "So, um, I was thinking we could just do something simple on the paper. The nativity, maybe, or like the angels coming to the shepherds. A Christmas tree would work too, or if you want we could even just flick Christmas-y colors at the paper. We could include a bit of writing too--'Merry Christmas', 'Happy Holidays', 'Joy to the World', 'Peace on Earth', something like that. Anyways, I've got tape to hang up the paintings and it might be cool to border them with tinsel. Otherwise I'll just use it for the suits of armor… ooh, or we could tape the tinsel in a circle on one of the doors like a wreath and tie a ribbon at the bottom. What do you think?"

Bridget felt her cheeks grow warm. She was pretty sure she'd never said that much to anyone at Hogwarts. Besides, she still considered Thora a friend, but they weren't exactly super close at the moment. What if Thora was annoyed with all her talking? "Sorry, that was a lot of words," she mumbled. Grabbing a paintbrush, Bridget rolled up the sleeves of her robe. Ordinarily she would wear Muggle clothing on the weekend but the thick black cloak provided ample insulation from the chilly hallways. The small girl half wondered if she could hide in the vast black folds until Thora and her were back to normal and her awkward uncertainty had gone.

Word Count: 416/200
Total Word Count: 830/1000
Posts: 2/5

@Bridget Collins

As Bridget joined her on the ground, a rather hurt expression gracing her face, Thora felt a wave of guilt wash over her. Inwardly, she knew how terse she was being. The no-nonsense attitude she was portraying certainly didn't help either, but she didn't know what else to do. Thora didn't know how else to hide the hurt, the pain, and the memories, for she knew she would need to somehow.

Trying to put a tired smile back on her face, Thora glanced at Bridget's supplies as the other girl produced a large roll of tape, satiny ribbons, and more sparkly tinsel than should've fit in her small satchel. And then came the craft scissors. Simply the sight of them made Thora's breath catch in her throat. They looked way too much like a pocketknife. The pocketknife. The sharp blade that had almost killed a boy and almost broken a girl's heart. The blade that had cost her more than just a long, stressful night at St. Mungo's with Ruthie. It was the blade that had stolen Thora's rest and awakened in the snek a strong, loathing hatred for a certain Gryffindor.

Sure, the scissors that Bridget held were tiny and much duller than any knife, but Thora couldn't stop relating them to the ball. The Slytherin hid her hitching breaths with a hacking cough, covering her mouth with one elbow and picking out several shades of green paint with the other. After all, with her rather haggard appearance, it wasn't hard to believe that she was sick. Whatever she had to do, though, Thora wouldn't let anyone in on her hurt. Nobody would see her paranoia of a simple pair of scissors. She was stronger than that.

As Bridget began to outline her plan, Thora settled, cross-legged, back on the cold floor. She didn't mind if the other girl took charge. She didn't mind being the follower for once and just not having to make her own decisions like those she had had to during the ball. Once Bridget had finally finished, Thora glanced up and down the corridors, surveying the wall space they had. Coughing once more for good measure, the brunette spoke up.

"Sure, I'll paint something like that," Thora left it open just to not commit to a specific idea. "If you happen to have any craft wire, you can tie it into a circle and then wrap this green tinsel around it. Or, if not, then yeah, just go with the circle idea. The only problem is it won't stay a circle, but I guess that's fine. I can flick it with glitter, too," the girl suggested, having found a small shaker of silver glitter at the bottom of her tote bag.

Having recovered a bit from the scissors scare, Thora was in her element. She had no problem talking to people she more or less trusted, and although she was still a little scared of the innocent pair of scissors resting just to the left of Bridget's shoe, she considered the other Slytherin one of these people. Besides, having come from a simple farming background, Thora had a lot of creative decorating expertise as the Larkston family more often crafted items rather than buy them all the way from in town. Never would the young girl have realized how valuable the endless days of crafts in her early days. It had been in the past year or so that she had put her skills to the test.

Sketching out the words 'Merry Christmas' in a curly font with a pencil, Thora turned to Bridget. "So, how have you been?" she asked softly. The tiny girl was perfectly--and guiltily--aware of how she had ignored Bridget for so long. She didn't know what else to say, though, because however much she disliked it, their very different experiences during the Masquerade Ball had pulled the delicate strings of the spiderweb of their friendship. The two girls were still friends, of course, but the silence between them had become tense once more.

Word Count: 676/200
Total Word Count: 1530/1000
Posts: 2/5

@Thora Larkston

Despite being hurt by Thora's unintentional aloofness, Bridget's expression couldn't help but soften when she heard the other snake's hacking cough. Was she sick? With the cold winter weather it wasn't far-fetched to conclude she'd caught a cold. Bridget almost recommended she stop by the Hospital Wing for some Pepperup Potion when she realized there could be more to Thora's ailment than a bit of foul weather. Had she even really been eating lately? Just from a glance it was obvious she hadn't been sleeping, but how long had the sleepless nights lasted? The thoughts were scary and part of her was tempted to ask if Thora'd been taking care of herself, but on the other hand, she had no clue how to ask, especially with their currently shaky friendship.

"Craft wire? Um, yeah, I think I've got some in here somewhere." Bridget dug around her now rather empty satchel, finally producing what she was searching for. "Here it is. Good idea, by the way." She set the wire among their other supplies and proceeded to grab a blank span of paper, a fine paintbrush, and a pencil. Using box letters, Bridget spelled out the words "Joy to the World" in pencil at the top of her parchment. Glancing at Thora's paper, she noticed that the other girl was using a much prettier font for her words. "Nice handwriting," she complimented. This craft was much more inclined to Thora's area of expertise, what with the painting, but Bridget would manage. Her artistic ability didn't completely disappear just because she was using a different medium. Dipping her brush in green paint, she filled in the letters she had just drawn. It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't bad either, and besides, the color was quite fitting as Slytherin had recently gotten a much-needed Quidditch victory.

Thora's next question, although quite simple at face-value, left Bridget quiet for a while. What was she supposed to say? She wasn't about to complain to Thora, who obviously had it way worse, especially since her tone had sounded rather guilty already. How was Bridget doing, in all honesty? Pretty miserable. She was still dealing with self-attributed blame for the Masked Ball, Quidditch, and Thora's current state. Instead of boosting her pride, her confidence, their Quidditch team's win over Ravenclaw had only strengthened her feeling that she was useless. She was stressed about homework and Thora's well-being and about seeing her family for Christmas after her last strained visit.

In spite of all this, the word that slipped out of her mouth was "Fine." She paused, determining what to share as obviously a one-word reply would only increase the distance between them. "I'm a bit nervous about going home for Christmas, I guess." Thora already knew about her family's apprehension towards magic, in fact sharing a similar stilted relationship with hers. "Homework and Quidditch practice are a bit hectic and all. Otherwise everything's pretty normal." It wasn't a lie--she had no desire to lie to her only friend. Still, the left-out information was typical of her and her trust issues. She did trust Thora, but still, there were walls she'd put up to protect herself, walls she didn't know how to let people through and still wasn't sure she should.

Word Count: 544/200
Total Word Count: 1374/1000
Posts: 3/5

@Bridget Collins

Thora could relate to Bridget's response. The other snek said she was fine, and although Thora didn't believe it, she didn't pry. Several times over had she said the same thing, brushing off the troubles and hiding them in the deep recesses of her brain. She couldn't--didn't dare to--reveal herself quite yet. She had told Bridget her story, well most of her story. Nobody in the entire world, from family to friend, knew everything she was going through. In fact, Thora wasn't even sure she understood everything she had seen.

"Hope your Christmas reunion goes well, then," Thora spoke up. Well, if Bridget wasn't going to say anything, she would have to initiate the conversation. It wasn't exactly her strong suit, but talking to different people had thankfully improved that for her. Normal? The Slytherin couldn't help but mentally gape at how Bridget called everything normal. Sure, she was almost positive the other girl was just trying to hide something, to hide her fear just like Thora was herself, everything was definitely not fine. She made sure to hide her reaction, though, because she knew how much she had ruined her friendship. It wasn't Bridget's fault--well, it mostly wasn't Bridget's fault--how they were falling apart. 

Thora never intended for their friendship to be as tense as it was now. She knew that it was mostly her ignoring Bridget, but sometimes she couldn't help it. She couldn't help that sometimes, she would rather be alone. She couldn't help that sometimes, she couldn't spill on the other girl but turned to other people. Bridget was supposed to be her friend. But what did friend really mean?

Hurt and confusion battered her brain like an ocean tide. Bridget was the only friend she'd ever had in her life so far, and she hated to lose her. But their differing experiences in the ball had really shaken Thora at her foundations. They had talked, and Bridget knew to some extent what had really happened. But still, Thora had kept some to herself. Bridget, having seen almost none of it probably wouldn't be able to relate. Besides, it was hard to relay something so serious that had happened. Some things were too important.

"So, I assume you're going home then," Thora said. It was pretty obvious Bridget was, as she would be seeing her family. But she needed to say something, something that wasn't about the ball. Something that wasn't awkward. And more important, something that wouldn't further hurt the other snek's feelings. Thora clamped her mouth firmly closed as she finished painting a Christmas tree. 

This wasn't so bad. Her banner was almost finished with words painted in jet black and a Christmas tree of countless shades. Thora might even get house points from simply painting, something she loved. But something was missing. Something that kept the task from being fun, or even enjoyable. It was her. Thora knew it was her. Even with her guilty conscience plaguing her with thoughts of self-deprecation, she couldn't bring herself to apologize for something so stupid.

Now adding colored ornaments to her Christmas tree, Thora opened her mouth, wondering if she should say anything. But before a sound could leave her mouth, the Slytherin decided once more to wait. If Bridget didn't want to talk, they didn't have to. But if she wanted to, Thora would definitely reply. Ironically, Thora liked being on top of and in charge of things. The Masquerade Ball had presented a few too many situations that she couldn't control nor change. The feeling of helplessness had been one Thora had experienced more than she would have liked. But still, she didn't like assuming the role of dictator. She had said her part, and now it was Bridget's turn.

Word Count: 626/200
Total Word Count: 2156/1000
Posts: 3/5

@Thora Larkston

While Thora painted a very impressive Christmas tree on her paper, Bridget, now finished with her lettering, went for a less detailed angel in the sky above a snow-covered hill with a single snowman atop it. A bit of variety was good as, after all, the word ‘Christmas’ encapsulated so many different things. While they painted, a silence settled over them. This was something the Slytherin was all too accustomed to—it seemed that whenever she had conversation it included a stretch of noiseless discomfort.

In the quiet, Bridget wondered if Thora had ever really been her friend. Of course, as soon as she had thought that thought she hated herself for it, but with how much they’d drifted apart she couldn’t help wondering. The catalyst for their distance was indeed a big one—the Masquerade Ball—but what had led Bridget to consider Thora a friend in the first place? Was it just because she was desperate to not be alone or was reminded of Lizzy and Jemima? She thought back to when they’d first spoken, near the end of last year when she’d fallen asleep before Astronomy and Thora had woken her up, saving her from missing class. Beyond how nice it had felt to have someone notice her small, insignificant self and care if she slept through class, that had been the first social interaction, although still awkward, that she’d actually enjoyed. They’d met again after exams and, long story short, Thora had charged straight at the Whomping Willow to rescue Bridget’s sketchbook, spraining her ankle in the process. They’d done an errand together, sat with each other in classes, worked on homework together, dueled, joined the Quidditch team. Before the ball had gone to pieces, they’d been enjoying each other’s company. It was every terrible thing that had happened next that hurt their emerging friendship. And looking back, Bridget was sure it had been just that—a friendship.

"So, I assume you're going home then," Thora finally said. Bridget nodded. She really didn’t have a choice in the matter, but maybe it wouldn’t be all bad. Her whole family hadn’t shunned her, after all.

"And you’re staying.” It wasn’t a question, and although her statement did allow the other girl to correct her if she was wrong, she was pretty sure it was true. Maybe she had just imagined it out of wishfulness, but Thora did sound a bit sad the she was leaving. Bridget didn’t know everything Thora had been through at the ball and since then, but from what she knew and her best guesses to fill in the blanks, the tiny girl sitting with her was not ready to face her possibly aloof family.

The moments dragged by and Bridget knew she had to say something. Thora could be all alone for Christmas and the brunette wasn’t going to ignore her before she left. She thought of her old friends and what they’d used to talk about, when she realized that she didn’t know something huge, something basic about Thora.

"Thora, I just realized I hadn’t asked before… what’s your family like? And where do you live? See, I live in Edinburgh and I’ve got an older brother—he’s in college—and twin younger siblings—a boy and a girl. And—um—we don’t really have pets, I guess. My little sister has been begging for one for ages but Jonathan’s allergic to cats and dogs so all we’ve got is a goldfish.” Her face turned a bit pink. "It’s really stupid I don’t know this stuff about you, but I guess it’s better I learn it now than not at all.”

Word Count: 602/200
Total Word Count: 1976/1000
Posts: 4/5

@Bridget Collins

"And you're staying." Bridget's words echoed in her brain, bouncing off every empty, shadowy nook. Thora was staying. What was she doing? She had spent the last 6 months utterly confused about her family, about their past. Originally, they had accepted her identity. But yet, upon the girl's return in the summer, they had displayed obvious dismay and wariness. No wonder she was so naturally wary of others herself. Then, why did Thora want to go home?

And then as if reading her mind, Bridget asked about her family. As the other Slytherin explained her own a bit, Thora swallowed hard. What was she supposed to say? She more or less trusted the other girl and considered her a friend, which was, for now, more than she could say about anyone else she knew. But still, Thora wasn't sure. Bridget obviously trusted her enough to talk about her own family, so the tiny girl supposed she had a sort of obligation to do the same. Or, at least, similar.

"Urmm... well," Thora stuttered, biting her lip. She hadn't had so much trouble with something so simple as talking for a while, so it was hard to re-expose what she was so bad at. So, Thora forced herself to keep talking before she could draw blood. "I've got a mother, a father, and a younger sister, and we live on a farm in Ireland. It's kinda in the middle of nowhere, but I guess it's near Dublin," the brunette answered. She didn't want to make Bridget feel bad or out of place, but it was too late to hide. Still, Thora tried to keep her gaze neutral. 

And pets? How was she supposed to talk about pets when she lived on a farm? They had way too many animals, and although Thora could name all of them, it was a bit difficult given so little time. But then, Bridget couldn't have known where she lived, obviously, for she hadn't told anyone. "We've got a lot of animals, I guess, since I live on a farm," Thora left it vague. She felt guilty about making everything a whole lot more awkward, but what else could she say?

Feeling her cheeks heat, Thora ducked her head and worked on her painting's finishing touches. Here she was, trying to at least be a decent friend to Bridget, and failing. Merlin, she was pathetic. First the ball (well, she had helped there, but failed later on). Then cricket. Now this. What a failure.

"Finished," Thora said, standing up and surveying the work. "So, um, what's it like living in the city?" the girl asked, struggling once again to find the right words in an ocean of possibilities. "Assuming you live in the city, of course." First off, it was a genuine question. Thora had been born and raised on the Larkston farmstead, never leaving, never moving. She had no idea what it was like to live in the city, her only impression being from her mother, who told stories about her days as a city girl. Secondly, Thora didn't want to jump to conclusions. Many times over had she said she lived in Dublin and people had assumed she lived in the capital's sprawling suburbs. But no, she lived several kilometers out. And in the grand scheme of things, that relatively short distance mattered. In terms of landscape, that is. 

"I-I guess I've just never lived in a city, so it's interesting to me when people tell me what it's like," Thora tried desperately to explain herself, but her weak attempts were to no avail. Weak. That was another thing she was. "I can tape this up," Thora suggested, trying to gain some of the dignity her awkwardness had banished. Why did she have to be so bad at this?

Word Count: 632/200
Total Word Count: 2788/1000
Posts: 4/5

@Thora Larkston

This was nice, Bridget decided. Awkward, definitely, but sitting on the floor of an otherwise empty Hogwarts corridor, painting, and learning more about her friend was nice. She did feel like a complete failure, yet again, for knowing so little about Thora. Progress was painful sometimes, though, and learning where the other girl lived and what her family was like had to be a step in rebuilding their friendship. She was surprised to hear Thora lived on a farm. There wouldn't have ever been any glaring signs that her friend lived on one though because a person from a farm was just a normal person, she supposed. Still, now that she knew it she pictured the old, happier Thora running through fields with a mini-Thora for her sister.

She held on to that happy mental image until the real, traumatized Thora brought her back to reality, asking what living in the city was like. Thora fumbled to explain her perhaps odd inquiry right after, but Bridget thought it was a perfectly valid question. She was quite curious about Thora's way of life herself, but that ignorance of her friend's childhood left her clueless for what to share. Not wanting to let their conversation die, Bridget gave up on giving the perfect answer and decided to just take a stab at it. While she talked, she looped a length of tinsel into a circle, wrapping the whole thing with craft wire until it looked like a decent wreath to hang once they finished.

"Yeah, I live in the city. Um, well, it's nice because all the stores and stuff are close by. I used to be able to walk to my friend's house after school, so there was that. The traffic's a bit annoying but I suppose that's the downside of so many people living in one area. With all the buildings and roads it's probably a whole lot uglier view than your farm."

Suddenly, a thought struck her. Perhaps it was too soon, perhaps it would make Thora uncomfortable, but it was the sort of thing that would make it clear Bridget still wanted to be friends. "Speaking of which, if you'd like to see the city for yourself... Thora, um, you have plenty of time to think about it and I won't mind if you say no, honest, but, well, if you'd like, do you want to stay at my house this summer? Just for a few days. I'll have to ask my mom first and all but even though my family isn't too keen on the whole magic deal I bet they'll be fine with you staying. Just something to think about, if you're interested." Finishing her offer, Bridget gave Thora a small smile while a little flower of hope budded inside her. She tried to stamp it out--Thora could say no and she didn't want to be disappointed, didn't want to make her friend feel bad--but it wouldn't go away. For once, maybe, just maybe, she'd said the right thing. That or the most horribly wrong thing.

The last stroke of her painting completed, Bridget handed her paper to Thora. "Yeah, how about you tape these up and I can put up the wreath and decorate some suits of armor." And so they did just that. Bridget, using a great deal of tape, attached the wreath to the nearest door. Then, she used the remaining tinsel and ribbons to adorn the armor at random, weaving the festive decor in here and there. By the time she finished, Thora was done displaying their posters. They admittedly looked a bit sad in contrast with the vast expanse of boring wall, but still brought a sliver of holiday cheer to the gloomy castle.

"Nice work," she told Thora. Tucking what remained of her supplies back in her satchel, Bridget slung the bag over her shoulder, although not before producing Thora's Christmas present. The gift was a handmade booklet wrapped only in a single red ribbon. She'd made it over the summer during her hours of free time. The jacket was made of cardboard with a pretty sea green fabric sewn over it. Using nothing but black thread and a needle, she had written [font=Segoe Script]"The Adventures of Thora Larkston and Bridget Collins"[/font] on the cover. The feat had taken days but now she was quite proud of it. Attached to the inside of the jacket with staples and some yarn were pages in shades of green, blue, and purple. They were all blank save for the first four, to which some of Bridget's sketches were neatly glued. The first drawing was of the moment they met, with Bridget asleep on her History of Magic textbook surrounded by pages and pages of notes. Thora stood over her sleeping form, tapping her shoulder to wake her up. The sketch wasn't necessarily accurate with much of it left to her imagination as she had been asleep when it happened, but still, it was the thought that counted. The next was of the Whomping Willow with Bridget standing outside of the branches' reach, Thora plunging into the danger zone, and the kneazle slinking around the trunk with Bridget's sketchbook in its mouth. On the third page, Bridget and Thora stood together on a raised platform with their wands at the ready. Illowy and Alexx weren't in the drawing but what it was of was still obvious. Finally, the penciled versions of the two of them hovered in the air on their brooms, their hair flying in the wind, laughing.

Bridget handed the book to Thora. "Your Christmas present. I guess the idea is for each of our 'adventures' I'll do a sketch and we can put it in their." Bridget looked at her feet. "I hope you like it. And, you know, thanks for doing this errand with me. Merry Christmas, Thora."

Word Count: 979/200
Total Word Count: 2955/1000
Posts: 5/5

@Bridget Collins

Biting her lip, Thora looked on as Bridget wrapped a length of tinsel with craft wire. When giving her the idea, she had meant for the other girl to wrap green tinsel around the craft wire--the more obvious method of making such a makeshift wreath--but apparently the opposite worked as well. The snek kept her mouth shut, though. Letting the small smile remain, curving her lips upward, she hid her thoughts behind a mask of emotion--or was it lack of emotion? Thora didn’t want--and had no intention to--make Bridget feel bad. In her opinion, she wasn’t even in a position to do so. After all, hadn’t it been Bridget’s idea all along? It had been Bridget’s idea to even do this errand, Bridget’s idea to paint something--Thora’s turf, for Merlin’s sake, and Bridget’s effort to meet up with her. Thora felt a wave of shame wash over her. She was the one who had almost ruined their friendship, and what had she done to repair it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Some friend she was.

Keeping her mouth shut was weird. Thora, who never had any opinion and was too scared to state her opinion, found herself trying to keep quiet. The idea was harder than the girl would’ve liked to admit, as she hadn’t exercised this area of self-control for a while. Sure, she wasn’t bad at comebacks. She had a younger sister back at home in Ireland and, well, a sisterly snarkiness was never missing from the Larkston household. But ever since she had come to Hogwarts, everything had changed. There were so many assertive people, judging people, people who clearly had different views than her and were eager to make it known. Thora had soon learned to keep her mouth shut and just listen.

Go stay with Bridget for a few days? The abrupt question took Thora completely by surprise. Honestly, she hadn’t thought them to be good friends to that point, but maybe Bridget still thought so. Brightening up, the tiny girl allowed herself to be hopeful, even for a second. Maybe Bridget still wanted to be her friend. And then she remembered her family. Her wizard-unaccepting, completely Muggle family. What would they think if Thora wanted to stay at a friend’s house? Someone the Larkston family didn’t know in person, someone they would obviously consider a stranger.

“Uh, sure, I’ll consider it. You live in Scotland?” Hopefully Bridget didn’t live too far away. That way, it might be a little easier to convince her parents. Thora was already very doubtful she should even consider such a trip, but times could change so fast. For all she knew, she might’ve even be staying at Hogwarts all summer. Strangling the delicate vine of hope that had begun growing at an alarming rate, Thora sighed. She couldn’t afford to hope, couldn’t afford to be disappointed yet again. She would have to ask her parents.

With that, Thora borrowed some of the tape Bridget had brought--how could she have forgotten a craft staple they would obviously need to stick things up--and neatly attached the posters to the tired rock walls, making sure they were straight. Being an absolute perfectionist was a pain sometimes, especially when everything had to be just so for the girl to be satisfied.

As Bridget complimented her on her work, Thora surveyed it as well, glancing up and down the deserted hallway. The dank hallways seemed colder than ever, emitting a very medieval--almost coldly unwelcome--feeling. The bit of love and TLC Bridget and Thora had given it with just some simple decor certainly warmed up the mood up a bit, Thora couldn’t help but feel a little bit uneasy. The Masquerade Ball had certainly reminded her, among many other things, that Hogwarts was a world in of itself. There could be anything lurking within its halls…

Shivering, Thora smiled and glanced back at Bridget. “You too. Thanks for the idea and thanks for asking me to do it with you,” she answered. While her face might’ve been relaying the opposite message, she truly was grateful that the other girl had chosen to do it with her when she had been so distant for so long. So when Bridget dug around in her satchel and produced an obviously hand-made but beautiful book and handed it to Thora, tears almost sprung to her eyes. Why was she being so dramatic? She hated showing emotion, hating showing weakness to some people. Although Bridget wasn’t exactly one, Thora was taken surprise by her kindness.

“Th-thanks,” Thora whispered. “Merry Christmas to you too!” She reached out and accepted the sea-green book. And then her muddled brain finally caught up to the reality of the moment. A present. Bridget was giving her a present. Merlin, where was hers to give? This was stupid. Having packed all of her stuff in a tote bag already, the snek reached to the bottom, giving a small sigh of relief when her slender fingers wrapped around a pentagonal box. A Chocolate Frog. Phew. Technically, she shouldn’t have had the Honeydukes sweet, but she had been able to buy a fake permission slip with the help of a certain Gryffindor prefect. A Chocolate Frog was only a cheap wizarding sweet, but it would have to do for now.

Dropping her tote bag, she quick walked over to Bridget and enveloped her in a hug. It was short and awkward, but it was what Thora could think to do. Honestly, she wasn’t much of a hugger, but sometimes circumstances called for it. Hopefully Bridget wouldn’t think of her even weirder than she already was in reality.

“H-here’s a Chocolate Frog. It’s from Hogsmeade, long story there,” Thora utterly failed at explaining herself as she handed the unopened chocolate to Bridget. “I know it’s not much, and I’m sorry I don’t have anything else right now. J-just thanks for being my friend, and I hope you have a Merry Christmas.” Thora retrieved her tote bag from the stone floor with a smile. Talking wasn’t so bad, especially if it was with someone she was comfortable with. Maybe friends were really people she could depend on, people she could turn and talk to. And even with all the trauma and pain in her life, she wasn’t alone. Friends were everything.

Errand Complete; Topic Left.

WC: 1049/200

Total Word Count: 3837/1000
Posts: 5/5