Not Quite Alone PV Thora Larkston Finished

@Bridget Collins

Defense of the Dark Arts had never seemed so long as it had just then. It had never been Thora's absolute favorite subject despite how practically it could be used and the magical knowledge it offered--two things she appreciated most about Hogwarts' classes--but it was never really boring. Being the good student she was, the Slytherin typically sat quietly through the class, taking notes on whatever might be needed for upcoming essays, or even for future exams. Other than the few friends or acquaintances of hers and the perpetual lack of sleep, nothing really distracted her.

Of course, there were those days where nothing went right. Partway through the lecture, a scream had rung through the classroom, snapping Thora out of her note-taking daze. Any scream that bloodcurdling and loud would've scared the girl out of her wits, especially in the middle of a previously perfectly peaceful class setting, after hearing so many from different places and people. Screams only brought back memories of panicked faces, blood, confusion, of her own fear, and ultimately of failure.

It wasn't rational for Thora to blame herself for every disaster she was caught up in, especially considering how there were many of them. But with so much going on, was it even possible that she was completely sane? Obviously, she was able to get by with grades and Quidditch, but to say that mentally, she was in a state, would be a complete understatement.

Being a rather sensitive girl and completely aware of it, it clearly wasn't going to be easy to let go of the Masquerade Ball. But when at long last she finally had, tragedy had struck again. It had been nearly two months since the night where poisoned spiders, of all things, had nearly killed countless of her housemates. Thora? She'd been nearly having a panic attack of her own and only able to help when everything was over. While the past weeks had helped lighten the burden of all of the memories, the guilt certainly had yet to fade. And avoiding pretty much everyone had resulted in a bottleneck of words, of expressions, and of emotions.

But that wasn't her biggest concern right now. A quick scan of the room--as only her eyes would cooperate following the petrifying screech--had been made and Thora's stomach had dropped past her toes and into the floor. Bridget? Thora was sitting several rows behind her friend, partially to avoid any awkward conversations that were almost inevitable between the two, and had been left wondering the rest of the lesson.

She deserved the worry, didn’t she? Not much effort had been made to check on her closest friend in the time following the spider attack, which obviously hadn't been the right choice, seeing that Bridget herself had been bitten. But now, at a time meant to be lunchtime--which meant no classes--she might've just had a chance. A chance to mend the cracks in their friendship and to see how she could help. A chance to be an actual friend, rather than a self-preserving, selfish little girl.

Thora was barely even looking where she was going as she darted out of the room, one hand keeping the books from spilling out of her bag that was nearly full to bursting. Even though she'd kept her eyes trained on Bridget for the rest of the class, waiting for the opportunity to catch her alone, the other Slytherin had almost disappeared in the steady stream of students, young and old, being released from their last morning classes.

To her relief, a flash of emerald-lined robes and dark brown hair flashed in front of her, and Thora instinctively followed. Bridget looked to be literally running, but to where, Thora wouldn't know. An almost stalker-like chase, several minutes, and a few apologies later, she had caught up to her friend turning down a corridor. Thora didn't remember anything being down there except maybe a few weak candles and of course, stone everywhere, so Bridget probably wasn't going anywhere.

But what if she was, and Thora was just the intruder that happened to foil a plan? She certainly hoped not, and although the doubt nearly made her turn on a heel and simply walk away, she'd come too far to just leave her friend. So, with a deep breath, she turned the corner and saw Bridget simply leaning against the wall. And breathing. Awkward, no?

Trying not to act like she'd just walked into something that probably wasn't meant to be interrupted, Thora backed up, leaning against the opposite wall. "Hey, you okay?" Pathetic. Wasn't going to cut it. With a deep breath, she stuffed her hands in her pockets and tried again. "What happened back there? I'm-- I'm here, you know." She hadn't done much to prove that she'd been there for any of her friends lately, and the words that left her mouth almost easily felt as if they were choking her. But hopefully, this would fix things just a little bit.

@Thora Larkston

To say Bridget was surprised when someone started talking would be an understatement. Thinking she was alone, the unexpected noise startled her so much she jumped, heart leaping into her throat. The eyes she'd closed shot open, searching for the intruder and half expecting someone holding an ax or something. That, at least, would justify her terror. But the person leaning on the wall across from her was no murderer. It was Thora. "O-oh. It's just you," she said, relieved. Feeling rather drained from all the recent panic, Bridget slid to the floor, settling her head on her knees. She already looked weak, and besides, this was her best friend. If she was going to be here awhile, she might as well get as comfortable as one could in a stone hallway.

Now came the part where she explained why she'd screamed in the middle of class. The part she wasn't looking forward to. Bridget didn't really want to talk about it, but for Thora, she would. If the roles had been reversed, she would have been really worried. Her best friend at least deserved to know what had happened. "A spider. It must have been on the ceiling or something... fell on my desk. I-I guess I thought it was one of those sp-spiders, and... and I panicked. I thought it was going to bite me again."

Sniffling, Bridget realized she'd started crying. The Slytherin wiped at her runny nose, her streaming eyes, but gave up on trying to hide the fact. Since when did she cry this easily? Everything was wrong. Bridget was not okay. "Thora," she said in a small voice. "What's wrong with me?"

@Bridget Collins

Though Thora, to her own fault, had no idea what to expect out of her running friend, it had been far from this--it'd been anything but. Bridget had sunken to the floor, a few tears beginning to streak down her cheeks. Thora bit her lip, trying to figure out what to do that didn't involve her green eyes boring into the top of the other girl's head. This was precisely why she loathed her childhood. The need to be socially aware hadn't really been prevalent in such a small place as Dingle, and this, combined with the fact that her residence had been a farm for all of her twelve years, had sent an awkward little girl to Hogwarts without the understanding of a friend in all of her relatively extensive vocabulary.

She didn't know what to do. And she hated it. This was Bridget they were talking about, her closest friend at Hogwarts and the one who'd always been there for her. But in Bridget's weaker moments, when she needed someone? Thora was left helplessly standing, fighting down the fear of failure closing off her airstream, beginning to choke her. Words, words words. Why wouldn't they come? She'd done this before, with different people, at different times, and under different circumstances, and although her self-consciousness had brought a pink flush to her cheeks, knowing what to do had started to come easily to her.

So why was she failing her best friend?

"Are you--Merlin, you're not--you're not okay," Thora muttered, crossing the hallway to slide down the stone wall next to Bridget. The acknowledgement of the obvious might not be taken appreciatively, but the thought didn't really cross the awkward girl's mind. She'd meant them as words to fill an empty void, a space that would otherwise be completely, eerily silent. Despite the fact that she was, once again, shorter, being seated as well, Thora reached out her left arm, curling it as best she could around Bridget's shoulders.

The brunette herself had never been a stickler for the physical, be it fighting (she was weak) or even hugs (she was awkward). But experience with others in similar conditions to Bridget's current one and no shortage of her own panic attacks had taught her that it was good to stay grounded. To focus on the tangible. Strangely, the action was comforting even to Thora as she waited for her friend to explain. She could only hope that Bridget felt somewhat the same.

Those spiders. Most people outside of Slytherin wouldn't know what the eight-legged creatures meant to the sneks following the attack, but every mention of it hurt Thora, as if the mention of a single word could bring pain--and it could. Memories of how she had let her housemates to be bitten crawled from the darkest corners of her brain, emerging from the darkness they'd so carefully been hidden with. As much as she hated the reminder, Thora knew that it wasn't her that this was about. It'd never really been about her.

It was Bridget's question, her address, that caught Thora absolutely off-guard. Nothing was wrong with her--but how were you supposed to relay that? "Well," she began, buying precious seconds as ideas morphed into coherent sentences strong enough to break through the dam of awkwardness, past the still-present lump of guilt in her throat that made it hard to speak. She scooted a bit to the side so Bridget could see her shadowed face, hoping that her words would reach the other girl. And with a deep breath, she began.

"Nothing's wrong--you're perfectly normal. Knowing what happened that night," Thora was sure both girls would understand which she was talking about, "I probably can't completely relate to how hard it is--and was--but I was there. I saw what happened. It's absolutely reasonable to be scared or even petrified of spiders after that. I mean, you would have to be soulless or something not to be."

"Obviously, no one expects you guys--us--to be unaffected. So…"She finally paused for breath, "It's alright to be feeling whatever you're feeling. There's nothing wrong with you." Thora stressed her last sentence, hoping that her words would get through to Bridget. It was hard to say the opposite of what she'd been doing herself for the past months, but perhaps it was about time she took some of her own advice.

"And if--If you ever need to talk," Thora forced her gaze to focus on her friend, rather than wandering up and down the stone hallway, "I'll be here." It was a promise others had made that she'd disregarded in her own turmoil, and some might've even called her a hypocrite for suggesting such an idea, but she needed Bridget to hear her. She couldn't simply stand by and ignore the fact that her best friend was in such a state.

@Thora Larkston

For Bridget, a best friend wasn't something you just came across. Her outlook on people certainly wasn't the worst, but she didn't trust just anyone. Maybe most people were decent, but some weren't, and everyone had an ulterior motive. Everyone. And that made it so her trust wasn't easily earned and friends, especially best friends, were rare.

If Hogwarts had taught her one thing, though, it was that friends were a necessity. You couldn't survive half-giants, curses, and the normal ups and downs of life without someone by you. That person for Bridget happened to be Thora Larkston. The girl whose arm was around her shoulder, pulling her into a hug, rooting her while she cried. They'd come a long way from that late night Astronomy class.

Crying in front of someone was something Bridget tried to avoid. But she wasn't as cold and hard as she sometimes came across, and with Thora... well, it wasn't embarrassing. She wasn't worried about Thora treating her any differently because she'd broken down. Bridget didn't know how long they sat in the corridor like that, Bridget leaning into the embrace and letting the tears come, but it was long enough for her to calm down.

Neither of them were very good at finding the right words to say. Bridget knew that, Thora knew that. So it was the fact that her friend had tried to say the right things that counted. Plus, even though the words were far from perfect, they helped. It was just the reminder she needed, that she had someone there for her.

"Thanks. I-I'm okay now." True, the sobs had subsided, which was an improvement, but if what had just happened was any indication, the spider attack had left her with more than black veins. Now, though, she just wanted to move. No more sitting around in empty corridors wallowing in panic. Standing up and ignoring the slight headache crying had left her with, she offered her hand down to help Thora up. The Slytherin certainly had no desire to attend lunch and show off her red, puffy eyes, but just walking and chatting with her best friend... that sounded nice. She'd been avoiding Thora for too long, not knowing how to cope, but it was time to change that.

As the universe would have it, they wouldn't get a chance to have a normal catching-up. Because it came back. The pain. She gasped as it hit her, fire in her veins all over again. The world was spinning. Bridget barely managed to catch herself against the wall, to steady herself as the terror and torture overwhelmed her. No, not again...

Thora offered a smile as the soft crying noises died away, leaving an almost comfortable silence. It was honestly strange like this, with the two of them just sitting on the floor, but it made the Slytherin glad to feel that she'd said something right. It was a strange sense of fulfillment that hit her simply because she'd actually succeeded in comforting her best friend, and perhaps taken a step closer to restoring the former friendship which had previously seemed somewhat faded. Perhaps it was odd that such a small thing could make her happy, but she was a lonely girl. Friends were an amazing thing to have.

"Oh, thanks," she accepted Bridget's gesture, pushing off the stony floor and to her feet. Now that Thora felt she'd said her part, she was honestly looking forward to some company. She couldn't deny Bridget's avoiding--well, it had seemed like that--for hadn't she done just that a few months ago, after the Masquerade? Still, it was good to resolve things. "Alright, so--" she'd barely begun to ask the other girl how she was doing--in her mind, there wasn't anything wrong with small talk, however cliché--when Bridget practically fell against the wall, pain evident in her eyes.

Thora was no healer. Unlike those who seemed to have a natural aptitude for helping others out, or who somehow had some inexhaustible stock of medical supplies with them, or even simply knowledge about healing, she was basically only competent in the magical factor of it all. Sure, she knew Ferula, but bandages could only solve so much. Besides, she had no idea what was going on here. A cold wave of fear shot up the brunette, widening her eyes and literally sending her quaking. She could certainly take pain, but it felt much worse to watch her friend go through the same.

"Wha-" Thora instinctively reached out a hand, forcing herself to do something, anything, to keep from her normal tendency of freezing up. She couldn't give into fear now. Not here, when Bridget was obviously in pain for some reason she didn't know. She couldn't do anything, so… "Hospital Wing," she muttered, grabbing onto both of Bridget's hands with her own.

The journey seemed somehow familiar as she set off along the hallway, but in the moment, she couldn't exactly remember why--until it dawned on her. She'd been through this sort of thing before, but it had been after the Masquerade, and after a night that seemed burned into her memory, always nagging at the back of her mind. Her current predicament honestly seemed akin to that night--a whole lot like it, actually--but to Thora's panicked mind, it was much scarier. While Saskia had tried to convince her that she would be fine, Thora wasn't sure how capable of speech Bridget was right now--likely not at all.

While the brunette certainly showcased plenty of traits attributed to Slytherin, she really cared. She looked out after her friends, the people she loved, more than she did for herself. There was no denying that it would be difficult sometimes, but there were times where it would be made obvious the choice she had to make. Even though she was scared, didn't know what to do, and didn't want to make things worse, she had to drag--or at least help--Bridget to the Hospital Wing. Bridget Collins was someone whom Thora was proud to call a friend--no, her first ever best friend. Bridget had always had her back, and she would have hers. It wasn't just something she felt obligated to reciprocate, but something almost like a duty.

As she burst out of the corridors and to the staircase, Thora wove around the few passing students, Bridget in tow. "You'll be--you'll be fine," she whispered, and while it sounded like a well-deserved reassurance, to her, it was more like a promise she had to make. A promise that she couldn't afford to break. "I promise."

It shouldn't have been too difficult to climb the stairs, as most people were enjoying their lunch break in the Great Hall, oblivious to this spectacle in their midst, but to Thora, it seemed like an endless journey, with only a speck of light at the end of a dark tunnel to look forward to.

At long last, the two Slytherins reached the doors leading to what Thora hoped was safety. The Hospital Wing. Hurriedly pushing a door open, she maneuvered herself and Bridget in. "Nurse?" The nurses had to be able to help. After all, wasn't that what they were for?