As Dido waited for Miren to answer her, or even speak at all, she kept her gaze trained forward, having to resist the temptation to glance back at the Slytherin on her right. It was a position all too reminiscent of those long periods trying to get Terry back into his cage at home. The parrot would choose a spot and if anyone, even someone several metres away, even blinked in his direction, he would go flying around the kitchen, shrieking his head off. Dido smiled at the memory, its warmth providing some resistance to the slow chill she was beginning to feel on the cold tiles. A cool draft from the high up window tickled Dido’s shoulders, causing the girl to shiver slightly.
If only she could cast that Hot Air spell some of those Astronomy students had been trying out at the end of their lesson, when she had turned up with her books. Astronomy itself was certainly one of her better subjects- after all, most of the lessons were theory based and involved some recollection of vague facts which every child who had played a game of “Top Trumps” would have recognised. Her only struggle, as with many of Dido’s subjects, were the actual spell. It was as if the wand in her hand was working against her, sending little shoots of failure up through her blood-stream and into her head. What if-
“Don’t they?”
Dido almost flinched when Miren spoke. Almost.
“What do you mean?”
Unlike her success in not flinching, Dido failed to prevent the instinctual glance towards Miren when her own question finished. The Slytherin’s brown eyes were open now but something else had changed too. Perhaps Miren’s brow was slightly less furrowed? Or maybe her jaw was slightly less clenched? Or possibly nothing had changed and Dido was just making things up. But something did feel different. The previous hostility Dido had felt from the girl had lessened and, for the first time, she saw something other than icy focus. Something far more akin to the Slytherin’s seat on the cold bathroom floor. Vulnerability.
With Miren beginning her explanation, Dido again let out a chuckle, though it was more dry this time. “Back to ‘ignorance is bliss’, I suppose” she murmured thoughtfully, bitter humour hidden at the back of her throat. Dido didn’t know the poem it had come from, only that her mother continually used it as an excuse not to spoil her fiction book ideas for her young daughter. Still, it seemed as if it fit the context and, anyway, she decided that there’s no harm in seeming a little more literary than you are.
As Miren continued, Dido looked back down at her hands on her knees but, still, she couldn’t help but look for that softness she had seen in the girl’s face be reflected in her words. Instead, everything Miren said seemed to echo her earlier cynicism to the letter. It was almost like her argument, her belief, was being poured into every syllable, each with a more bitter take on life than the last. The sentences almost hurt to listen to- they were so… Dido didn’t even know the word. Nihilistic? Hopeless? Pitiful?
Once more, she looked back at Miren, a line of almost-worry etched across her features. They were such… painful thoughts. Was Miren playing it up? No. You couldn’t fake that pure emotion. Dido thought back to Miren’s earlier coldness- what had made her like that? Why was a little girl so withdrawn? Even Miren’s final words, a warning to Dido, felt more despairing than helpful, almost like it wasn’t directed at Dido at all.
Soon enough, Dido’s own questions shifted to herself. What could she do? How could she help? She was meant to help, right? That’s what people do. Though, not according to Miren.
While she pondered how to help the girl, Dido’s hands unconsciously moved towards the satchel on her side and began digging around, pressing the pads of her fingers against the hard edge of her journal, the softness of her scarf and, finally, the smooth plastic cuboids at the bottom. She pulled out a bar of chocolate- the last she had brought from home. Granted, they had been disappearing quickly from her own tendency to snack while working on homework or her writing. Slightly regretting her own apparent generosity, Dido tore open the plastic and broke the bar in half before offering one side to Miren.
As she ate hers, she considered what the Slytherin had said and, between chewing, wondered aloud, “What if it’s nice?”
Swallowing the rest, Dido added, “To trust something? Someone?”
