Promises (Temporarily on Hiatus)

I watched him sulk away from me, "black robes billowing behind him"; a terribly exaggerated statement that had become somewhat of a mantra of mine. I was always watching him walk away, never following after, never being bold or a flirtatious little coquette like the other girls. I was no wallflower. On the contrary: I was the epitome of an extroverted individual, but my sense of propriety outweighed that. Oh why couldn't he just say something entirely inappropriate? That would open the doors for a slew of innuendo and double entendres. But no... His staunch persona never wavered, never faltered, never cracked. And so I watched him walk away time and time again, “black robes billowing behind him.”

I had surprised myself when I reached out for his arm. Obviously, I was mortified. I touched him. He was the most untouchable man in the entire school, perhaps the entire world, and I had the audacity to touch him. He had looked irked, but I had to admit I was secretly pleased with myself. I evinced a reaction from the stoic man; albeit, an unpleasant one, but an emotion nevertheless.

As for my University and Apprenticeship Application, he was right. It was a rather slapdash and careless effort done with my dullest quill at eleven o’clock the previous evening to boot. It was a rough draft, really, but the writing was some of the best I had ever managed to scribe; it had to be. Oxford was calling! I could see the bright university town in my mind’s eye. The Bodleian Library, the Radcliffe Camera, the River Isis! Oh I longed for those university sights and sounds and most of all the university comrades. I was quite bored with all of this schoolgirl nonsense; the exams, lessons, and the strict scheduling. I loathed the jejune, structured nature of it all, but I pretended that the entirety of it wasn’t totally a waste of my time and made friends like the others. I couldn’t very well alienate myself from my schoolmates. However I hardly considered them my peers academically. So I swallowed all feelings of discontent, resentment, and horror as they prattled on about how they loved some boy or another. I swallowed all the unnameable, sordid, desirous desiderata that swarmed around my brain like iridescent, scintillating moths drawn to a raging inferno of hedonism and maintained the slightly supercilious and superior attitude that every good Slytherin should possess. God forgive me for my lies and disingenuousness!

I stopped my wandering thoughts as soon as I heard the chatter of girls approach the common. Smoothing on a well-practised mask of normalcy, I pushed off from the solid wall and tripped towards the oncoming group of classmates.

“Hello, Evelyn,” Marjorie, the leader of this pack of gossiping wolverines, lisped amiably. Thankfully, I was “in” with this crowd, as it didn’t do well to make enemies with these girls. I suppose they considered me to be innocuous, a girl who didn’t pose a threat to their status as rulers of the school. I had plenty of friends, or at least a respectable number of acquaintances, but no one close, no one to confide in or whisper secrets to or discuss my dreams with. I craved affection really and was quite the attention whore. Not sexually, of course, but I always longed for physical encounters with others: a hug, a brush, an accidental bump. When all else failed, I sold myself out for a cheap laugh at my own expense. But people’s unwillingness to be my close friend was most likely due to the fact that I voiced my opinions with little thought for anyone else’s feelings, without caution or inhibition or a care in the world. That did not serve me well.

“Pip pip, Marjorie,” I replied. “How’s life?”

“Miserable,” she replied with a dramatic sigh. "My life is so dull. Mummy says that I can only invite three hundred people to my debut! The Hutchinson sisters had six... Are you all right, Evelyn?” She was so fake, so disingenuous. I abhorred her.

“Of course, Marjorie dear. Now are you going to tell me if Victor asked you to Hogsmeade or not?”

“Well, you see…”

Way to go, Evelyn. The next three hours of your life soon to be wasted with the inane complaints of adolescent drama.

“He did ask me, but I turned him down.”

“Oh,” I replied non-committally. I wasn’t sure if this was good, bad, or something to be nervous about.

“Oh is right. That is exactly what he said. That prat needed to be humbled.”

“Humbled.”

“Yes, I just said that. Are you listening to me?”

I had been caught letting my mind wander, which was a mortal sin when it came to Marjorie’s rules. “I am sorry, dear, you were saying? I’m just nervous-”

“Anyway,” she continued loudly, “I think that I’m going to have you ask Victor to go to Hogsmeade so I can rub Markus in his face.”

“Marjorie, I can’t-”

“ANYWAY, see you on the fourteenth.”

That horrid girl.