1.11.16
"Why don't you just give the fuck up?"
You're almost relieved at the familiar sneer in the sudden voice beside you. The Frog Choir auditions were fucking packed and most eyes seemed to flit to you every now and then in-between rustling of papers and low, melodic voices practicing last-minute. Panic had been swirling at the bottom of your stomach, creeping slowly up your sides when Merula Snyde walks up to you and challenges you to a duel.
What a discerning love language to have.
"I'm not giving up, Merula." you inform her airily.
You go to the grounds and take out your wands and go swish swish swish, hard bright red sparks flying. Aggressive, aggressive, aggressive. You go on the defensive immediately, smoothly, your wrist gliding up effortlessly, elegantly.
All those hours endlessly, needlessly dueling people you'd never heard of or bothered to look at afterwards has really paid off. Violence is a river in your veins now and Merula is slouched on the ground, heaving. You walk up to her.
She makes you want to be cruel. It's strangely liberating.
"What was it you said?," you smirk, "you won't, don't count on it? Where do you get all that confidence, Merula, especially when you keep losing at everything?"
You bring your face closer to her. "Are you that scared of losing to me in there, that you needed to eliminate me before?" you breathe, crown glinting gaily on your head.
Merula looks straight into your eyes, scarlet eyes alive with venom and pain.
"My..my mum was in the Frog Choir."
And you stop dead, flush of victory leaking out of you. "What?"
"My mum," Merula offers again through gritted teeth, "was in the Choir. That's why I..," her voice trails off.
Silence, and strangely chilly September air.
You follow the invisible tail of her voice to the sky. Something's happening here, but you dont know what.
"Well...good luck." You waver slightly, getting up. "May Flitwick choose who he thinks best. And," you spin around, "I promise I wont tell anyone about you dueling another potential candidate right before an audition."
Her face lights up in anger and shame, eyes downcast, but you're already leaving.
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"Is literally everyone here?" You whisper weakly to Tulip as you both enter the Charms classroom to hear the results.
You have, frankly, no idea how exactly the audition went. You remember the entire hall going silent when you started, but that could just be out of mock-horror. You tried your best, but then again...
"I can almost hear your thoughts. Do calm down." Tulip whisper-smiles. "You'll be fine. And," she begins bashfully," thanks for giving Dennis the chance to do this..and fulfill his dreams."
Dennis croaks cheerfully beside you on a desk.
She takes your pinky in hers and you smile despite yourself. Despite noticing Merula in the corner, her face worried, despite your heart jumping for reasons not entirely related to singing.
The entire classroom is abuzz with hysteric whispers, hovering over everyone's heads like static till Flitwick appears seemingly out of nowhere, as always. Then a hush falls over the crowd like smog.
"Before I begin, I'd like to thank everyone that took the time to audition."
Ah, fuck. Not good.
"It's never easy to make these decisions but it was particularly difficult this year." pausing for dramatic effect, he continues, "With that being said, please congratulate Miss Rising on becoming the brand new member of the Frog Choir!"
A bright, pale yellow balloon swells up at the back of your head.
"Despite Madam Pince's insistence that I should not have chosen you..."
You turn your head at your rival in triumph and suddenly Flitwick's voice fades away, as does the balloon, the (only) half- resentful murmurs of congratulations around you and the urge to cringe at the 'miss' when you take in Merula's face. It's more than sad - it's the face of a scared child backed into a shady corner, about to be flogged.
"Congratulations, Crystal Rising! You deserve it!" Tulip's voice sounds like it's coming from the end of a corridor, even though she's right beside you.
"No.." the words fall gray-blue from those perfect lips, so soft and so far away you have no fucking clue how you heard it. "I'm sorry, mum.."
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck it.
"As honoured as I am, Professor," you find yourself saying politely, your nails strictly rebelling against it by digging into your palms, "I think that spot should go to Merula Snyde."
The crowd starts buzzing again, and Tulip frantically mouths a what are you doing?? at you.
But Merula's head whips towards you, watercolour insomnia and disbelief and suspicion so delicious in her eyes you open your mouth again.
"On one condition." You point to Dennis, beside you. "She takes Dennis with her. It's been his dream to perform in the Frog Choir for a while."
You feel Tulip relax once more beside you.
"I accept!" Merula says happily, and something hot washes over you.
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It's pretty good, all in all. Fine.
Merula sings with a practiced voice, and catches your eye every so often. You stare pointedly away. The show is a roaring success, but you're so confused.
Later, Tulip approaches you with your very own toad. You name him Astolfo for some reason, it's all good. It's all great.
Except it's not, of course. And not just because it should be you up there.
Merula's waving off adoring first-years when you approach her. You have no idea what you want from her. She's off-balance only for the tiniest moment, after which she smirks.
"Come to ask for a thank-you, Rising?" she spits gleefully.
"Yes." you reply coolly. "Your mum must be proud."
A corner of Merula's mouth curves upwards.
"I'm sure she will be, when she hears how I manipulated you into giving me the spot! Just how naive can you be, Rising? Frog Choir? Of course my mum didn't do anything of the sort!"
Hurt cuts through you like lightning, but you notice some of the creases around her eyes soften, so subtle no one but you could possibly notice.
No one but you.
Something warm clutches at the front of your skull and suddenly you're leading Merula away from the Hall and towards the end of the corridor. One of the many frustrating things about Hogwarts was its abundance of ghosts, popping up everyfuckingwhere.
"What the fuck?!" Merula yells at you, uncertainty swimming close to the surface in that well-worn voice. "If you want a fucking-"
"You're a very bad liar for a Slytherin." you interrupt, quickly pushing her up against a remote wall and pressing your lips to hers.
She makes only one small sound of shock and goes perfectly still. You quickly push awkwardly away from her because damn, you didnt think this through and because damn, you have no fucking clue how to kiss, but she pulls you back into her and your guts fold into each other.
Kissing is weird. It's like trying to eat another person's mouth with your own, but oh god. Oh god. Are you too young for this? Probably. Does Merula smell like cloves and nail polish, spicy up the nose? Probably! It's warm and wet and oh, oh, oh. Merula's fingers curl in your robes, on your small back and shivering huffs come from her. Or are they from you? No idea anymore. Your thoughts melt into each other, intricate sticky webs so sweet it's almost worth giving her the spot.
You separate breathlessly when you notice your leg making its way between hers. Oh no, no, no. Not yet. Not yet for a long time.
There's a vacuum silence for a couple of beats, during which you untangle your web of thoughts and the chill of panic, the what the fuck did I just do runs down your bones.
"A thank-you," Merula says, voice low and unsteady. "Nothing more."
"Okay." you whisper, staring at chestnut hair lit up by soft golden light from the Hall. Merula speed-walks away from you as quickly as she can, and you stare at her as she leaves you.
No more candle in the wind, but what now?