What Burns Beneath
As fast as Dee's temper was prone to rise, it tended to settle just as quickly once the source of her anger had dissipated - or turned out to be a misunderstanding. Grudges were reserved for the most severe of crimes: usually against her friends. Thus, while the change might seem mercurial and borderline whiplash-inducing, Althea now got to witness Dee's usual friendly, curious, and arguably charming self - including the questionable honour of being peppered with questions some might deem too direct - and probably too personal.
It was unexpected to find out they were the same age, even if Althea had been pulled out of school years ago, but generally, Dee wasn't too surprised when other students recognised her. Conceited as it might seem, Dee was used to it; even before Hogwarts. She was many things, but inconspicuous or quiet were not words often used to describe her. Thus, she waved a dismissive hand at the assurance that Althea was not a stalker - promise. She could hardly blame the Hufflepuff for being more observant than the average self-absorbed teenager (Dee included).
But she had learned, over the years, to pay more attention to her peers, at least those directly in front of her, and her gaze sharpened at the hesitant reaction to her mention of the advancement programme. It was not what she had expected, mostly because Dee herself, ambitious and proud and never-endingly competitive, would have jumped at the opportunity to catch up to those in her year. Everything else wouldn't just have been unacceptable but unbearable, eating away at her every time she saw the gap between them and her, in knowledge, in skill, in magic, even.
So it took her a moment to listen, to comprehend, and then another one to try and adjust; conscious effort made to view the world from a perspective that wasn't her own. "There's no magic around your home, then?" she asked, after a pause that was perhaps a moment too long. She supposed that would make things more difficult. Dee had grown up with magic, even before Hogwarts, and if she had suddenly stopped attending the school, magic still wouldn't have disappeared from her life. It would have been there every day in her mother's potions lab, in the small charms her father used around the house, cleaning spells and cooking charms and all those tiny little everyday moments that had caused her phone to break every other week when she had still lived at home. (Her Muggle friends had given serious consideration to whether or not Dee was simply cursed, which was closer to the truth than they realised, and yet very far off, all at once.) She couldn't imagine her magic ever feeling foreign to her. How could it, when it was part of her?
It would still be too far a stretch to say that Dee understood why Althea felt that she had to stay in her current year; why she chose to simply accept the hand she had been dealt. Instead, her character growth over the years manifested in her accepting that maybe what was right for her was not right for others - and really, it was admirable that Althea seemed to know so well what was right for her. Dee certainly felt lost at times, especially recently.
Which perhaps explained the slight flush that crept along her cheeks when Althea picked up on her hesitance about mentioning Jack. Stupid, she thought a moment later, because why would she be blushing? Embarrassment, for helping out her ex-boyfriend? They'd barely seen each other since; she wasn't even sure he had passed his exam. Had he? (Perhaps she had been avoiding him.) "... my ex," she admitted reluctantly. "Not voluntarily, mind you, I was sort of assigned to tutor him in Potions, since that is my best class and his worst." She'd also gone about their lessons with ruthless professionalism - determined not to let inconvenient feelings creep in. She'd left him in her past, where he belonged. (For her sake, and sanity.)
@Althea Valeden
"One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar."
What Burns Beneath
Though Althea had definitely become more settled as any traces of hostility dissipated into a polite and relatively pleasant exchange with Dealla, she still found herself feeling nervous under the careful scrutiny of the Ravenclaw’s perceptive aquamarine eyes. She had not interacted with a girl her age since Kara Capricorn and her old summer camp tent mates when she was fourteen years old, particularly an interaction that dived so rapidly into discussions on topics that she would have never allowed to be brought to the surface under regular circumstances. She was usually quite skilled at avoiding topics and questions that stir murkier depths best left untouched, but strangely, fragments of truth kept embedding themselves into every sentence that leaves her — small fragments, but truth nonetheless.
When Dealla asked about the environment of her home, Althea found herself hesitating only a second before responding with honesty. She shook her head, “No, I grew up with magic. I loved it. It’s just that the people who used it aren’t… there right now, so I just ignored it, I guess.” Althea supposed that most witches and wizards at Hogwarts grew up with some degree of exposure to magic unless they were Muggleborn. When she looked back at her childhood, the fondest of memories had the best harmony of magic and Muggle normalcy. What little memories she shared with her mother felt too blurry to identify, but there was no doubt from her mother’s old writings that she was surrounded by magic even in infancy. At that thought, a smile graced her lips ever so lightly.
Althea almost chuckled at the pink that dusted Dealla’s cheeks at her teasing remark, and she did when the Ravenclaw asserted that the arrangement that paired her with her ex-partner had been against her will. Gossip on romance was always so interesting. She turned to stifle her amusement with a cough, “Well, you must’ve done a good job if he never returned. That must’ve been one heck of a summer.” The fluidity of the conversation was startlingly smooth, with her words sliding off her tongue without the nerves to rattle them. The atmosphere felt almost warm with the easy and pleasant back-and-forth they had begun, almost… friendly. She glanced at Dealla and her frizzy hair. She found herself wondering if there would ever be a day when that feeling would become regular and a fact. Friends, whom she could cross that bridge towards, without anxiety or hesitation, to reach out. Althea let her eyes trail towards the view of the castle in the distance, trying not to reveal the dawning awareness at that mildly embarrassing line of thought. How old was she, wondering so deeply about how to make friends?
@Dealla Prince
Lost time is never found again, but in its shadows lies my path to freedom. (2020-2026)
What Burns Beneath
"Oh." Dee cocked her head, trying to sort through the words. However Althea might view herself, there was clearly more to her than she presented outwardly. More pain, too, it seemed. They aren't there right now, she'd said, which made their absence sound temporary, but at the same time - didn't that mean they'd been gone for the past three years at least? And what had that comment been, the one she'd made earlier to explain why she'd been pulled from Hogwarts for so long, about her father and godfather? Dee bit her lip with uncharacteristic hesitance. Curiosity warred with the reluctance to dig into something that was likely painful, less due to a sense of compassion and more because she was unwilling to provoke an emotional response on a topic that Althea seemed to be trying to avoid. Not anymore, at least. "I'm sorry," she offered finally, a response that seemed laughably inadequate, no matter the situation, and yet it was always what people fell back on when confronted with someone who was struggling.
Even so, talking about Althea's pain was preferable to having to make explanations about her own past. About who Jack was, their history, all those painful moments she avoided thinking about. She shouldn't have brought him up. The comment about Jack never returning elicited a flinch, almost imperceptible, and the rising urge to lash out again, like an animal cornered. But Althea didn't, couldn't know, that she had gone through that in a more literal sense than the girl likely imagined - Jack disappearing, for a year, and the guilt that Dee had carried around as a consequence. The Hufflepuff wasn't trying to dig into the cracks in Dee's armour, the ones she could never quite fill, no matter how much time passed, she tried to remind herself. But that didn't mean that the words didn't sting, either way. "Oh, the tutoring ended when summer hols started," she deflected, but some of the ease had left her posture, replaced by a tension like a tripwire, hidden unless you knew to look for it. "I spent the summer with my boyfriend in Sweden." A suggested change in topic - she'd happily talk about Madhup instead.
With the warmth of the fire and hot-air spell gone, the chilly November air was making itself known again. Shivering slightly, Dee crossed her arms in thought. There was something else she could offer - both in the hopes of directing the conversation away from her ex, and because... well, it felt like the right thing to do, somehow. "You know," she started slowly. "Even if you're not planning to take the advancement test, if you need help catching up, I could help." Was it an apology for snapping at her earlier? A sort of survivor's guilt that Althea had been robbed of three years at Hogwarts, and Dee hadn't? She wasn't sure. The offer was genuine, though. She'd fit it into her N.E.W.T. revision; teaching was the best way to learn, anyway. A small, wry smile tugged on her lips. "Although I should warn you, I'm not a very patient teacher."
@Althea Valeden
"One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar."
What Burns Beneath
Althea had not intended to dampen the mood with her own hardships and misfortunes. Seeing Dealla bite her lip in a surprising show of hesitation and even hearing a sympathetic “sorry,” leaving the confident Ravenclaw, she felt partially responsible for steering the mood back to safer, calmer waters. Althea shook her head with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, “It's alright.” It was quite… nice, how easily the other girl just accepted her less-than-skillful dodges and considerately let the topic slide despite the curiosity evident in the brunette’s eyes. These days, people often let their curiosity about her run amok and interrogate her. This bit of grace was… very nice.
The flinch that Dealla gave at Althea’s careless comment made her pause, a small wave of guilt crashing over her at the thin veil of tension that blanketed the Ravenclaw girl in the blink of an eye. She supposed that it would take a lot more than just a chat post-confrontation to begin chatting carelessly with someone over sensitive topics like this. Mentally, the Hufflepuff quietly filed away the fact that she should tread lightly on the topic of this “ex-boyfriend” fellow of Dealla’s in the future. She felt more than grateful when the other brunette skillfully deflected to focus on her new boyfriend instead of staying silent. “That sounds quite nice, actually. I’m sure he’s lovely,” Althea tried to lather on a bit more friendliness and effort to compliment and focus on Dealla’s new boyfriend, whom she seemed far more comfortable discussing, as a compensation of sorts for stirring up bad memories of her ex-partner. It was quite fascinating to see a student her age being comfortable enough to travel with a romantic partner. She wondered if she would ever hear more about that trip or this boyfriend the other girl spoke of.
Dealla’s crossing of her arms had initially confused Althea and made her slightly nervous that she had offended the other girl again in some way, and her mind had begun flickering through a series of escalation measures — until Dealla made an offer to help her with her studies. Her racing thoughts skidded to a stop, and for a second, she was stumped. What on earth did she even do to land a tutoring lesson with Dealla Prince, the girl who succeeded in worlds and leagues she had never even neared? “Yes! That would be nice,” Althea blurted out, shoulders slightly tense from the excitement, even as she tried to regain her dignity by schooling her posture back to some semblance of neutrality. The light-hearted warning that Dealla gave drew a small laugh from her, melting away some of that anxiety. “This disaster will be in your reliable hands then,” Althea nodded, the surreal feeling of having just successfully built another bridge instead of burning one washing over her like a refreshing breeze. Wow. She has not felt this way since she was twelve. Regaining her bearings, she realised that much time had passed since their morning had been interrupted. The sun was approaching the centre of the late Autumn skies, and if they lingered any longer, she feared she would say more embarrassing things, emboldened by the chill of the weather. Althea pointed a thumb in the air towards the direction of the castle, directing a rare, open gaze towards Dealla.
“I think this morning deserves a nice break by the fireplace. I can run you through my academic track record as we walk, if you’d like.”
With those words, it was as if a cold, damp blanket of loneliness lifted its weight off her shoulders, giving way to a foreign airy warmth. It felt like...hope.
[END]
@Dealla Prince
Lost time is never found again, but in its shadows lies my path to freedom. (2020-2026)
