Pencil Scratchings

Hogsmeade weekend greeted the students that wished to spend the day in the town with the bitter onslaught of winter that the weather forecasters had promised. Rain lashed down outside from six o’clock that morning until around one in the afternoon and it was only then that the students above second year really began to move from the castle into the quaint village whose economy rested entirely on the elder years that attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Valerie was one of the ‘eventual students’ – the students that eventually arrived in the village at a little after three o’clock with only a handful of hours left to indulge in what the village had to offer.

Immediately, the young woman set off for the Post Office that handled both Magical and Muggle post. The girl entered the shop, cringing at the shrill bell that jingled over the top of the door, and joined the short queue that included people of all ages and varying degrees of dampness. Valerie herself had not escaped the downpours that rained down intermittently throughout the day and was in a fair state of dampness herself though she managed not to sniffle her way through it like the snivelling third years that clearly hadn’t experienced rain without an umbrella or a coat before. Valerie contented herself with the fact that they were ill prepared when usually it was she that was foolish and found herself daydreaming, moving along in the line at the appropriate intervals until she reached the counter.

“Muggle mail,” She spoke without preface. “Valerie Llewellyn.”

The man behind the counter, a tall, gangly, black haired individual eyed her with curious hazel irises, evidently aware of the name, and began to flick through the post resting in a rack labelled in big, bold lettering: MUGGLE MAIL. Eventually, the man produced two letters – one for Valerie and another for her sister Valentine, as if he assumed she was there to pick up both. Valerie sighed heavily at the presumptuous nature of the employee, forgetting momentarily that she was the second sibling, and paid for some mints before leaving the post office and stepping back out into the drizzle.

Quickly jogging across the road, the young woman found refuge in the Three Broomsticks. She retreated far into the back where she hoped she would remain unnoticed and there she opened the letter that was addressed to her in her mother’s crude, child-like handwriting that had not been given the proper amount of keen attention to in her youth. She removed the thick parchment from the envelope and she smoothed it out, noting that the note was in pencil rather than any form of ink, as was, now she noticed, the envelope. Sighing, Valerie looked around herself, noticing finally the waitress looming over her, waiting patiently for an order.

“A Butterbeer and a plate of chips, ta.” She asked before watching the waitress walk away, wanting to be sure she was alone before allowing her disappointment to become clear in the face of the letter – and make no mistake, disappointed she was indeed.

Outfit

Posted for Alaric Krum due to temporary technical difficulties.

"Balls! This is the third time they're doing this."

"What, you actually counted?"

"I mean, everyone wants a piece of Hope and Glory."

"I'm not so sure ....."

"You actually counted?"

"How did it happen?"

"You're the only one who wants pieces of Hope and Glory."

"Balls! That's no true!"

"You even counted?"

"I mean, I get it. The girls love Craig. We all know that."

"They quite like Alex too."

"No, they don't. Since when?"

"Stop being a little sh*t. What're you sore about? You had your chance. You just didn't have the b*lls to do anything about it."

There was a yelp, and Alaric turned to see Connor and Thomas locked in a strange position of tangled immaturity.

"Break it up, kiddies. Let's try to avoid making a scene for once."

"Shut up, turd face."

Round Two involved Connor and Wayne. Fortunately, it didn't take long for Alaric and Thomas to pull the boys apart.

"It's your good day. Dirkisn't here. You know you're not going to get away with it, with him."

"Can we just head in now and chill the **** out?" Alaric was getting annoyed now. The lads were almost like family to him. Sometimes, though, with days like this one, he'd like nothing more than to hex them all to get some peace and quiet.

---

It was obvious how chilly it had gotten outside, as soon as the boys found themselves soaking in the warmth of the Three Broomsticks. Sure, the rain had a hand in the chill, but it was safe to say now that Summer was really gone. The boys didn't lose much time. They were quickly settled down at a table near the entrance of the establishment. And, thanks to Connor's sweeping decisiveness, had their drinks chosen and brought to them by the dilligent waitress.

Thomas was the first to notice her. Unfortunately, in true Connor fashion, the discovery was announced as soon as it was whispered across the table. Alaric cringed. The moment was not saved, even when four mugs of Butterbeer were brought to the table. There was no peace to the boy's first gulp of a good drink. Pleas for more subtlety went unheeded.

"Dude. Grow some. Talk to her. How long are you going to take before that happens?"

"Yeah! I mean, seriously, even I'm bored of Valerie-spotting with you. I mean, she's fit. But she's difficult man. I'm good with Scarlett. She's easy." With a wink, Wayne smirked before lifting his mug. He took a huge gulp of Butterbeer and struggled to swallow it to continue what he wanted to say.

"Just talk to her so I don't have to do it with you anymore, please?" Alaric scowled at his friends.

"You're such a p***y."

---

"Valerie, hey." Alaric cringed. There were so many seemingly suave conversation starters, and all he could come up with was that. Still, he stood his ground. After all, he wasn't supposed to be that bad in this arena. It was't that he was a smooth operator of sorts. No, he wasn't, at all. That was up Craig's alley. Girls love a bad boy after all, don't they? And Alaric was barely one. He was friendly, and that was it. It was, unfortunately, not that easy to be friendly with Valerie Llewellyn. For one, she didn't seem like the sort who wanted to be friends. Alaric had been observing the girl since the last school term. And really, she barely talked to anyone. Still, he wanted to talk to her. He could barely keep his eyes away from her as long as she was in his periphery. It was a simple crush of a teenage boy. And this is his first step to a very difficult journey towards his intended gratification.

"Hey, you alright?" A touch of concern. The girl looked miserable. Then again, she almost always does. It was almost certainly one of the reasons why Alaric needed to talk to her. Perhaps, he mused, he could fix it.

Valerie,

I won’t take up too much of your time as the letter is short and sweet. I trust you are well and will remain well enough to stay at Hogwarts this year for the duration of the Christmas period. Your father has expressed his wishes not to have you or Valentine home for this Christmas – I have written a separate letter for your sister though, mind you, so you needn’t tell her. She can find out for yourself. Oh, and I wouldn’t expect too much under the tree on Christmas day – or whatever you folk use – because your brother has asked us for a game’s console and as money is tight this year, we’d scrimped when it comes to you and Valentine. Now, you girls are old enough not to need much – it’s all just rubbish anyway. Well, don’t be a stranger. I mean, obviously you’re uninvited for Christmas so you can hardly be a frequent visitor but you know what I mean. Enjoy your holidays, pumpkin!

Jasmine.

With quaking hands, Valerie smoothed the thick parchment out onto the scratched and splintered table that she sat at. Closing her eyes, Valerie brought her hands to her face. She rubbed at her closed eyes, determined that she shouldn’t cry, and brought her hands up to her hair, running her fingers through the front of it before letting her hands fall abruptly down onto the table once more with a thump that caught the attention of a doe-eyed couple whose attention in each other had been broken momentarily by her insensitivity to the love they shared for each other. Valerie returned their disturbed, accusatory gaze with a glare of her own and leaned forward in her chair, unsure as to her next move.

Should she write back? No, heaven forbid. Perhaps she should conveniently forget about the letter and go home regardless? No, that would be a completely bad move. But she couldn’t tell Valentine; no, the girl wouldn’t recover from it. Valentine needed to see their mother in the best possible light. If she didn’t then there would be nothing and no one left for her. But Valerie knew that their names would have to go up on the register for those staying over Christmas. She couldn’t yet think of an excuse for when Valentine found out but she would worry about that later. Right in that moment she felt that the best thing she could do was sign the register and then hide in her dormitory until dinner time.

But just as the girl was about to make her cunning escape, the waitress returned. Lowering herself back down into the chair, Valerie took the drink gladly, the warmth of it in her hands suddenly calming her nerves. She thanked the girl who promptly threw a smile in Valerie’s direction before scooting off – in the direction of a group of boys, Valerie noted. It was only then though that she realised who it was that had been service her. It was Daria McMaster from Ravenclaw in the year below. Now, it wasn’t as if Valerie paid attention to the girl – or anyone in particular from Ravenclaw, the rest of the houses, the year below and the other years – it was just that Valentine tutored her and had to listen to all of the tripe about Wayne – or was it Dirk? – and how he was the best thing since sliced bread. Valerie disagreed most ardently but the girl was dotty with him despite it all – so it was to the table where he and the other boys sat that she quickly scarpered off to.

Shaking her head, Valerie scraped the letter back into the envelope and absent-mindedly drank from the mug. She managed to wrench a book from her bag but even the distraction of the narrative was not enough to block off the catcalls and the general screeching that the barely-pubescent boys were doing. But the point is was that they were loud and they were loud to the point of prompting the previously already offended couple to leave the pub all together. Now, Valerie wasn’t about to complain about that but they left her completely exposed to the boys – and to one in particular, one who, if their clatter was anything to speak of, wanted to go over to her.

Believing Alaric Krum to be something of a wimp – or a pussy, to quote his friends – Valerie lowered her gaze to the book. But almost as soon as she began to release herself to the narrative, a voice above her broke her concentration and the babble seemed to calm down with it. Valerie paused on the line, the phrase she was staring at ironically reading: And so it began.

“Can’t you see I’m reading?” Valerie replied shortly, looking up from the book as she spoke without any matter of preface. Valerie straightened her shoulders and narrowed her eyes openly at the boy before her who had grown quite considerably since the last time she had been forced to look at him – during class last year, or so she remembered. For a moment, Valerie allowed herself to be shocked – so this one actually had hit puberty – but recovered long enough to assure him. “I’m fine, not that my wellbeing has any bearing on your own. Don’t pretend not to have company, Krum. I saw the gaggle of testosterone-consumed numbskulls and halfwits. You should go back with them. You fit in better there.” Valerie wasn’t sure whether it was a compliment or not but either way, reshuffled her expression to try and make herself look serious – or at least fierce. She was sure though, that she had failed. “I won’t spread my legs to provide amusement for you Krum; but I don’t doubt that there are some girls in here that would. If it’s female company you’re looking for, try table four – it’s next to your own, in case counting is beyond you.”

Alaric winced, but struggled to maintain composure. He wanted very much to, as cliché would have it, dig a hole into the ground, jump in, and then bury himself alive. Really. It wasn't everyday that he was dished out rejection. Then again, it wasn't everyday that he attempted something that wasn't clearly already available to him on a platter. That was the problem with him, wasn't he? He, the baby of the family. He didn't have to confront anything or anyone that he didn't want to, or wasn't comfortable with. There was always the luxury and safety of someone older who wouldn't hesitate to step into the situation. Besides, he was an heir of the Krum family. Well, of course, there were many heirs of Krum running around on the face of the earth. Still, at the very least, he was the favourite in his part of the family tree.

Alaric stole a look back at the lads, all of whom pretended to be savouring Butterbeer like they were sipping gold, quietly and slowly. Yet, it was ever so clear to him that all activity had stalled at that table for the expense of his now at Valerie's. The boys were painfully lacking in subtlety, and Alaric couldn't help but squirm even more under the immense pressure that he was feeling now, caught between a desire to run away from the situation, and the need to hold his ground or risk being labelled a wimp for the rest of the school term, if not his life. No, he couldn't run. After all, didn't they expect him to be exemplary, like Craig? It was a miracle that none of the lads realised, yet, that he barely possessed the dauntless and reckless guts of the other boy when it came to girls. It was thanks to Alaric's showing in other aspects of life at Hogwarts that still maintained his influence over most of the lads.

They were watching him now, and intently, at that. It was as if they were taking notes from him, living vicariously through what they expected to be the swagger Alaric was supposed too have. His stomach turned again, battling to be allowed to go into hiding even if he couldn't do so. The words spoken by the girl turned and ran in circles in his mind. Of course he was offended. He wasn't used to being spoken to in this manner. Alaric was a boy who always wanted to be the best, to be on top of every game. Yet, he hated the obstacles that came along with it. Why can't everything be easy? He blinked. Then, with a strained patience in his voice, Alaric spoke.

"I-I didn't intend to ask for you to spread your legs for -" He bit his lower lip now, a little embarrassed to repeat the matter out loud, and to her. He had felt misunderstood. Yet, now, as soon as he repeated it, Alaric suspected that she was being sarcastic instead. Quickly enough, he felt the heat rise up from his chest, to his neck, and to his ears. It wasn't as if he was innocent, really. No, not at all. There were certain fantasies put up in the spaces of his mind that even the lads knew about. Yet, of course, in the face of Valerie, he felt embarrassed to have thought about her in that manner. Now, with what she said too ... Alaric shook his head. He was being silly. Of course she couldn't tell. He was sure she wouldn't have the ability to read minds. At least, not yet. No. He was going to be normal. Friendly and normal, good old Ricks.

"I- erh. How're you?" He offered his winning smile, hoping it would offer him some leeway in this situation. After all, the boys were still waiting to see if he was going to received well by who they have been tired of hearing about for months now. They had expected Alaric to go for it, and the expectations were long overdue. "I'm sorry," he added, definitely inexplicably apologetic to Valerie, but really because he needed some cooperation from the girl to make it look good on him, to the lads. "I just- I just thought we've seen each other around so often. But, you know, we never really get to hang out. You know?" Alaric winced at the input of his question, which really was an attempt to plead with the girl for some help in this matter. At least, he thought, just do it for the lads.

Okay, no. No. Pull yourself together.

Alaric grinned again, hoping that this one was more confident than the last. He eyed Valerie's drink. "Let me buy you another drink, after this." He nodded, then attempted to look out a window, though absent-mindedly. "It's a great day, isn't it?" No, it wasn't. He corrected it quickly. "I mean, the rain's a bit troublesome. But, you know, Hogsmeade Day is always a good day, almost." He checked for her reaction. At the same time, the boy could tell, from the corner of his eye, that the boys thought that things were going well. There were nudges and grins, approving, all. At that, Alaric felt relieved, even if slightly, at that. "I'm sorry, I forgot to ask if I could take a seat." He bit his lower lip, feeling a little bad now, especially when she was still giving him such a look. He was just glad that the boys didn't seem to notice. They were hardly the most perceptive of people. "Was I interrupting? You looked preoccupied. Oh-oh, yeah. Yeah. Haha. You were reading. Yeah. Haha." He winced visibly and stopped before his ceaseless speaking would begin to get at himself too. "Sorry. I just want to be friends." Said in a truly ignorant and earnest fashion.

The warmth of the Three Broomsticks was not extended to the purportedly cold-hearted young woman who most probably needed it more than any other life form that had settled his or herself into the establishment. Now, make no mistake, it was not that the young lady thought ill of the equally youthful man – or, more accurately, boy – before her, but instead it was the company he kept that made him so utterly undesirable in terms of companionship; that and he seemed to have taken a liking to her that made Miss Valerie Llewellyn ever so slightly uncomfortable. In fact, no, scratch that – it made her very uncomfortable and, really, she just wanted him to go away. Yet, despite her initial urging, he did not waver and Valerie had to keep herself from becoming even the slightest bit impressed by his resolve.

The young woman chose instead to sit back in her chair, her arms relaxing from the ridged position they had adopted upon her disturbance. Valerie did not dare close the book for fear it gave him the wrong idea. Instead she kept it firmly open, glancing down at it intermittently as she wished him away. But Alaric refused to move, much to Valerie’s obvious despair, and so she had to sit and listen to him, her better judgment tugging at her insides, asking her politely enough to just apologise to him. Refusing to adhere to her better judgement, Valerie instead remained quiet and allowed the boy his opportunity for speech.

In the end, the book found itself reason to close. A chill from the open door shivered its way up the spine of the Hufflepuff and with the movement of her arms, the book fell shut with a snap, signalling that he was indeed welcome though not by her own decisive action. Valerie closed her eyes, an action born both from frustration and from embarrassment; though the latter she could not as simply explain as the former. Flustered, the girl pressed the book onto the table top, putting to rest the volume that she had procured from the Restricted Section not a week prior. She was sure that in time there would have to be a second evening where she could steal away into the library to return the book and take another. Perhaps tonight, she allowed; or even, maybe, tomorrow.

“Why?” Valerie asked finally. “Why do you want to be friends?” The last word was spat out, left to hang in the air that was growing tenser between them by the second. “You have friends, Krum. Can’t you see that?” Valerie gestured towards the boys that were hardly being subtle about their spying. “Leave me alone. I didn’t come in here only to be accosted by you and your naive desire to become anything more than mere acquaintances. No, leave me alone."

And with that said, Valerie rose from her chair, bundling her book into her bag as she struggled to get her jacket back on at the same time as trying to tug her hat down over her head. She seemed to barrel past him like a hurricane, whirling up everything around her only to spread it all out once more, not having gotten anywhere with her desires. Valerie, to tell you the truth, felt thoroughly ridiculous and as she past the boys waiting like vultures by the door, her embarrassment increased ten-fold. Yet she could not turn and apologise – she had to keep walking. She had to keep walking out into the rain and hope against hope that he wouldn’t dare follow her, that she could walk the mile or so back up to the castle, into the Hufflepuff common room and hide there until the other girls returned when she’d have to leave for fear of being ridiculed. That was all she wanted. She didn’t want to play nice with some steroid-consumed dunderhead that really, didn’t give a flying toss about her. No, that was the last thing she wanted... and so she walked.

People grew up too quickly these days. Alaric hardly had trouble at socialising with the human race. Yet, his questions were never really answered. There were so many questions about people, about life, about things. He always had them. Sure, he was never really bogged down by a hard life. All that counted was the death of his father. There was a potential for what Stephen wanted of his son, there certainly was. Yet, apart from Alaric's anger at the unfortunate absence of his father, there aren't enough to contradict the lightness of the boy's being yet.

What frustrated Alaric more was how he could not understand everything he wanted or needed to. He wanted to be more than the baby his family pacified him to be. He wanted to be just the man the lads thought he was. And he wanted to know all it takes to be in control of a situation at any time. That was the problem, wasn't it? How does one cover more ground without leaving his comfort zones? How does one seal the gap between aspiration and deprivation, when one had no clue at all? Where were the directions or instructions that one should be allowed?

Those were the woes of a fifteen year old boy who really could be considered to have lived a rather good life, compared to his peers. He was still almost like a baby, fished out of the living waters by his loving mother, barely touched by the cruelties of the world bar the murder of his father. Yet, he didn't wallow, he didn't mope. He was, instead, an inquisitive boy who was almost begging for more exposure, but also for it all to go his way. How can anything not go the way he want it to be?

Alaric blinked at the absent space that, just a millisecond again, was filled by the form of one Valerie Llewellyn. There was a silence that accompanied it, too. It was as if the entire Three Broomsticks had turned to watch the girl leave, and had now turned accusatory eyes to the boy who they suspect must have done or said something to upset her. Alaric felt his mouth go dry. Massively uncomfortable, he felt the stares from the lads now. Embarrassment began to creep up his neck. Ignoring the psychological numbness in his limbs, Alaric pushed himself up and ran out of the establishment, following the trail that Valerie had taken. Half of him curious and dejected at the first failed attempt at befriending the girl, half of him desperately needing an escape from the looks and, certainly, questions from the boys.

Alaric didn't want to admit defeat, not when Craig and Alex were off with the two girls that the boys had been raving about for awhile now. He was barely interested in those conversations. Multi-tasking was barely a skill in his possession. He could only obsess over one. Besides, Hope and Glory were common. Well, commonly liked by most Hufflepuff boys. Still, common was common. He was into puzzles, or an enigma, for that matter. Or, at least, he felt better telling himself that he believed in all of these.

As soon as Alaric's skin collided with the cold air outside, again, he began to wonder if not bringing a coat was really as good as idea as he thought it was in the morning. Yet, he didn't, couldn't, go back to the warmth of the Three Broomsticks now. Dejected but not put out, he strained to do the very thing he had been spending some time doing everyday now at Hogwarts. He was searching for the face of Valerie Llewellyn through the crowd; not that Hogsmeade was swamped with people. Rather, there was still a challenge in looking for the girl through the fair amount of students dotting the area outside the pub.

---

"I didn't say anything about being more than acquaintances!" Unfortunately, or fortunately, Alaric had caught up to Valerie. He had trailed after her boldly. He had made his first move now. There was no point in hanging back and attempting to blend in with the rest anymore.

"Look!" There was a sudden optimism in the boy's voice. A bit of a giggle betrayed the man he was trying to be. Without substantial hesitation, Alaric had his wand out, pointing towards a fair-sized balloon that wasn't there before. It bopped casually, taking its time to get from the boy's wand to Valerie. He didn't know what made girls happy, let alone what made this one smile. Still, he was brave enough to try, especially with the look on the girl's face that should have been clear to him that he probably shouldn't have.

The air that had engulfed Hogsmeade was laden thick with winter and as Valerie walked, her gait growing smaller as the chill set into her bones, she could not help but retreat further into her coat, her form disappearing as her head hooked forward and her elbows drew in, all of her exposed limbs moving in closer to her torso. It did not take long for her to slow, her conviction waning and her desire to return to Hogwarts on foot slowly growing weaker as her temperature plummeted. She was never one to retain heat, Valerie. No, that was always her sister. She was cold to the touch – a mirror to her cold heart, she’d often been told. But it was as a result of her weakened speed that he caught up with her and once again, Valerie had to turn to look at him.

“Yes you did. Friends.” Valerie’s eyebrows rose as if to add emphasis on the last word uttered and her eyes followed as he conjured the balloon, her hand twitching with the desire to pop it. But instead of popping it, the girl took her wand from her pocket, twisting the multi-wooded wand in her fingers before flicking it, conjuring in the air a basket that attached itself to the balloon. She watched carefully as the basket bobbed with the balloon, waiting, seemingly, for something to happen.

A head of bright red appeared suddenly and then a pale face as a miniature woman jumped up from the bottom of the basket. A blonde haired man followed her and the pair began to laugh and joke about something or another, pointing at everything and nothing as they spoke amongst themselves.

“There.” Valerie spoke quietly. “That’s better.” The girl scuffed her shoes against the cobbles, her teeth chewing idly on her bottom lip before peeking up at Alaric, inquiring gently: “What do you really want from me, Krum? Surely you were lying when you claimed you wanted to be friends.”