Cesca knew she wasn't normal. She was as far as one could get from normal, really. She was far too quiet, too sharp, too arrogant, too stubborn, too strange, too stand-offish, too contemptuous, too pretty, and too small. And that was just the start of it. There were so many things about her that would cause others to look and sneer.
It didn't bother her, usually. After all, the blond knew that she was better than all of the others, so their opinions rarely affected her. Or perhaps, perhaps she was just as skilled with denial as her brother. Because sometimes, it hurt.
Cesca didn't cry. She honestly couldn't remember the last time real droplets of saline had fallen from between her lashes. True tears, that is, not the fake ones that fell in abundance whenever she thought they would be able to gain her something. That didn't mean, however, that Cesca didn't sob. It didn't happen often, but happen it did. The girl would sob so hard that's she'd be bent over, folded in half and unable to stand. Curled up on the floor, muscles trembling, no tears would fall from her eyes. She would sob though, hand pressing hard into the ground between gasps for air and broken cries.
She was hardly the only non-normal female in the school. There was that Dixon girl who spoke to herself as if there was quite literally another person living inside her own head. There was the Varnes girl in Slytherin, who was almost as manipulative as Cesca herself and used the school labs to brew illegal draughts simply because she could. And then here was the second year named Sally, who was clearly maltreated at home but far too shy to say anything about it. But even those three had friends, or people who would be willing to be friends with them if they only opened themselves to the idea. Cesca, on the other hand, had no one. Her brother was far too busy to spend much time with her as of late, and her few Ravenclaw acquaintances liked her only for her ability with a chessboard. All the girl had was herself, and the occasional laughs and jeers from her schoolmates.
A large part of her was envious of her brother, no matter how much stress she knew he was under from their father. Scorpius was charismatic. He was friendly and popular and people genuinely wanted to spend time in his presence. Not all of those people were true friends, or people whom he could trust to keep his every secret, but at least they wanted to spend time with him. Scorpius was never lacking people to spend time with. The girl could bet that the male didn't even know what loneliness felt like, where as she knew the feeling all too well. It was almost tangible, a constant ache in her heart that morphed into an unbearable throbbing at the most inconvenient of times. But Cesca managed, she always had.
Freezing air biting into the pale skin of her uncovered arms, the witch slowly uncurled herself from the fetal position she had been twisted into for so long her back had begun to ache. Her voice would be horse for days, she knew, and it was almost lucky that there would be no one to notice it. Numb fingers digging into the damp ground, the blonde looked up towards the darkening sky. Sun slipping down beyond the horizon, a bitter smile formed upon chapped lips, a silent celebration of the darkness that reigned once more.
by Francesca "Cesca" Malfoy Sun Mar 02, 2014 10:59 pm
