Outnumbered But Not Quite Alone (Luke)

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Duelling class had just finished, her last class for the day, and Chrisy had retrieved her bag from the side of the room and slung it over her shoulder. Making sure to double check the contents, she was pleased to find that nothing had been stolen - this time. Head down and making sure to make no noise and to keep to herself. This was second nature to her, something she had learnt to do for her own survival.

People always said Hogwarts was great and amazing, this wonderful school where everyone was united by a common thing, and one found lifelong friends in both one's own house and outside of it. They claimed that Hufflepuffs were the friendly ones, and that Gryffindors were brave; that Ravenclaws were smart and studious, and Slytherins were the ones to look out for.

But Chrisy knew different.

She knew that Hufflepuffs chose to look away, and that Gryffindors were bullies. She knew that she was not smart nor studious, and that the only person to show her kindness was a stranger from Slytherin. And as she mulled this over, she realised something: she had not gotten the name of the strange boy who had barged into a locked art room only to run out moments later and then saved her drawing from a bunch of bullies.

Walking down the hallway in the crowd of students, she wondered about this mysterious Slytherin. But her thoughts were interrupted when a shoe appeared in her direct line of sight, and before she knew it, her feet were kicked out from under her. Toppling over, she fell face first, just managing to throw her arms forward to avoid breaking her nose, and she heard the laughter ring out from all around.

She stayed on the floor for a while, not getting up, not letting anyone see the tears she hid with the wall of hair that covered her face, until she heard them grow bored of laughing at her and walk off. Then and only then did the pick herself up, slowly, wincing as she realised there was already a visible bruise on her arm where she hit an uneven part of the pavement. Taking a slow deep breath, she continued on her way. Do not cry, Chrisy. Do not let them know they've gotten to you. You hear me? You do not cry, she repeated to herself mentally, chanting it as a mantra; she would not allow herself to think of anything else.

Guest

Luke had just finished his class, dueling, where he'd stayed out of the way of almost everyone else. His attention was not on Professor Hollands, though, instead it had been on the most exquisite human being in the room.

His Chrysanthemum.

Luke had not approached her though, instead working on his own through the theory and hanging back on the practical. He could do it easily. Doing it in class was menial and gave people too much of an insight to what he was capable of. No, Luke kept participation to a minimal to make sure nobody understood the force, the power, he had.

As they had slipped from the classroom Luke had decided to try and catch Chrysanthemum. Why? Because he could. She was different and he wanted to talk to her. However, Luke had been out of the door much later than he had anticipated after he'd been hung up on doing his notes. He'd exited to the echo of laughter and people moving past someone on the floor.

Finding this odd, Luke moved closer to find the person he had been looking for. But this, this was not right.

She moved to her feet and Luke hurried to her side. "What happened?" Luke asked the witch, completely ignoring the fact he'd forgotten to acknowledge the witch in a polite manner first. Then... the Slytherin's eyes found the bruise already forming on her arm and instinct moved his hand to it. Touching it with such gentleness that might have been abnormal to anyone other than him.

"You're hurt, Chrysanthemum." Luke added, forcing her to stop walking as he stood before her. "Who did this?" He added, his tone obviously growing with anger as he took in the mark on her arm.

Guest

She barely heard the voice, and even after the words registered, she couldn't quite believe that they were meant for her. After all, why would anyone want to be speaking to her? The voice, though, held a familiar ring, although Chrisy couldn't be bothered to try and place it in that moment. She was far too focused on just getting herself somewhere private, so she could let out the tears that she could feel forming. She would never let them see that they got to her, never let them know she hurt.

That was why she forced herself to turn her head slightly, lifting it just enough to get a glimpse of whoever spoke and saw, to her surprise, that it was the very Slytherin she had been thinking about earlier.

The stranger - for that was what he was, despite their couple of previous interactions - reached forward, and automatically she flinched. It didn't hurt, but physical touch wasn't something she was particularly used to, and the idea of someone reaching forward meant, in her mind, danger. She blinked at his words. He... knew her name? Wincing at the use of the full one, she wondered briefly how he had gotten that information, even as she automatically replied, "It's Chrisy."

Only her parents called her Chrysanthemum, and it was then she hazarded a guess as to how the Slytherin boy knew; one of the bullies had stolen a letter her mum sent her some years back and made it public announcement of the contents. The phrase our special little flower still haunted her. The boy before her must have heard it from one of the bullies. She was gossipped about often, that much she already knew. It just didn't bother her as much anymore.

"I..." she paused, shrugged once. "I don't know." This was true; she really didn't. She could guess who it was, but being a rat never ended well for her (she had made the mistake of telling a prefect once) and she had promised herself never to tell on anyone again. "I never got your name, I'm sorry," she added, trying to steer the conversation away from what just happened. It was embarrassing, to say the least, and the faster everyone forgot about it, the better.

Guest

The flinch that came from his touch made Luke let go of her arm in an instant. He felt a weird feeling in his chest akin to pain - but Luke couldn't remember the last time he had, personally, felt pain. Was it supposed to sting in his chest like that when he had used his hand to touch her. What had caused that... feeling. Luke didn't know, and he pushed it away instantly because he did not like the feeling at all.

"It's Chrisy."

Luke shook his head once. "You're name is Chrysanthemum. I know that. Chrisy is your nickname. Chrysanthemum is your real name." Luke responded to the witch, making it quite clear he knew the difference and that he was going to use the name Chrysanthemum and not the shortened version that everyone else used. Why? Because he liked her full name more than her nickname, and everyone else used it.

Chrysanthemum was personal. More familiar.

"You don't know? How can you not know? They hurt you!" Luke insisted, his confusion at the situation clear. Did she walk around with her eyes closed, or something? The question on his name Luke didn't answer, this was not the pressing issue at the time. "Think, Chrysanthemum. You must have some idea of who had done it?" Luke insisted, more urgent now as he glanced over her shoulder to try to locate the culprit down the hallway.

Guest

She was thankful when the male removed his hand. It was gentle, yes, but it was still weird, and she felt the panic start to lessen. Now that there was no physical contact, she could actually focus on her words and what was being said instead of worrying that she was about to be hurt even further.

At the correction from the stranger on her name, she resisted retaliating, something ingrained into her by years of being bullied. No, trying to stand up for herself in any manner had been equilibrated to pain - both physical and mental; whoever said words didn't hurt had obviously never been verbally abused - and she never made that mistake. As far as she was concerned, school was classes, homework, and finding ways to keep her head as down as possible.

So, despite hating the fact that he was using her full name, Chrisy said nothing, providing only a curt nod to indicate she understood his words. And as he continued talking, she turned her head away slightly, a subconscious move at being confronted.

"Think, Chrysanthemum. You must have some idea of who had done it?"

At the use of her first name, she winced a little, but she wasn't sure if he could see it from where he stood, and covered it up at once, smoothening her expression and shaking her head. "I don't," she replied. "I really don't." And even if I did, I couldn't tell you, she thought.

Guest

The lack of information made Luke's jaw set with irritation as he moved slightly to the left to see down the hall better. There was no one stood pointing their fingers, or laughing, or trying to cause any harm to Chrysanthemum anymore. Frustration set in, if he hadn't been so slow from the class, he could have caught the person who had done it.

Made an example of them to the rest.

Was the first example not enough for the bullies to realise that this was not going to be allowed anymore? He was going to have to up his game, Luke realised a moment later as his eyes moved back to the Ravenclaw, softening slightly as the took her in, though internally he was still berating both himself and her for not knowing who it was.

"If you remember, you tell me." Luke told the girl, ushering her along the corridor with one, last backwards glance along the corridor for the perpetrator.

"Where are you going now?" Luke asked - not conversationally like most people might ask this question, but information gathering on the witch beside him. That way he would know where to find her if he needed her.

Guest

Chrisy did not know what to do in this position. Nobody had stepped in before when she had been injured or bullied, and definitely not in a protective way. And while people - prefects and professors - had pushed her for names many a times, nothing had really been done when she answered. So now that someone was demanding answers, Chrisy didn't quite know what to do. Of course she had suspects; there were a few main bullies that she recognised by now. But she would definitely not say anything, especially not to someone whose intentions she wasn't sure about.

But nevertheless, she nodded, empty promises that she was used to making. Yes, I am fine. Yes, I promise to tell if anyone hurt me. Yes, I will do better next test. Yes, I have given up art. Yes, mum and dad, I know you love me. Lies, but she didn't even blink any longer, and felt no guilt. They were essential to her survival.

She followed the stranger down the hallway, pausing at the question. Would she lie again? She saw no point, and so, with a light shrug, commented, "The art room, probably."

Realising he hadn't answered her, she inquired again. "Sorry, what was your name again?"

Guest

The confirmation that Chrysanthemum would tell him if she remembered who had done it, Luke took to be highly truthful - after all, what reason would she have to lie to him? There wasn't one, and Luke was going to wait until her memory worked enough to tell him so he could track down the person who had tried to hurt his Chrysanthemum.

The information about where Chrysanthemum would be Luke tucked away for later use - in case he needed to find her. Or drag someone along to give her a proper apology. He didn't openly acknowledge it, though, knowing he would have to head off in the opposite direction. The Slytherin had already turned on his heel, truth be told, when the Ravenclaw witch spoke up again.

Luke's mind was busy trying to decipher where he was going, what he would be doing, that it took him a moment.

"Lucifer." Luke told the girl, glancing at her then down the corridor. "But, to most people, it's Luke." He explained, not caring for which she used. There was no pause, then, Luke strode off down the hall, eyes searching the people he moved past to try to find the culprit. Jaw set, and intent on making sure his Chrysanthemum didn't have to suffer through such things again.

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» Between Children of the Shadows (Luke)
» Brokenness (Luke) [TW - self harm]
» A Wander Down Knockturn Alley (Luke)