Hey all! This story will be a set of oneshots exposing the dirty little secrets at Hogwarts. Hints of random pairings (some slash- nothing too big) will occur.
Rating: This oneshot is rated PG for very angsty situations.
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter
Warning: This is rather dark, darker than most of these will be.
I'm walking on the pond, minding my own business. I don't know why I'm out here or how I got here. I'm just there, on the frozen lake under a dark, starless sky. She didn't want to come with me.
I kick at the ice, my boot sliding against the slick hardness, again and again. She was always the good twin. She was the one that adults compared their children with, the one that boys wanted, the one girls wanted to be friends with. She always did her homework, did well on tests. I wanted to be the good twin.
I walked farther out onto the lake, seeing shadows in the ice. I tug my scarf more tightly against my neck, pull my hat with a pompom down on my head. I look down and then I see it.
It's a face. Thousands of them, all across the lake, trapped under the ice. The sort of float there, their eyes frozen, fixed on me. I shiver and run across the lake. Some of them I recognize, Harry, Seamus, Luna, Hannah. Some I don't.
She is towards the middle, her thin face peering at me. I smile, sadistically pleased by the sight of her dead beneath the ice, thinking of how I am no longer in her shadow. I rubbed my gloved hand against, committing this scene to memory.
And then I see it. It's about 8 feet away. Black ice, with thin, hairline cracks. And before I know, I'm standing on it. It moves a bit beneath my boots. I take a deep breath of the winter air before it gives way all together.
I float there for awhile until I realize I need air. I claw blindly to find the hole where I fell in but it has already closed up. My need for air is desperate now and my muffled screams cut through the water. A hand snatches my scarf, but I am not sure if it is my own.
Then the first of the cold liquid drips into my lungs. I pause, marveling about how good it feels. Then there are more and more drops and suddenly my lungs are half full and I'm enjoying it. White spots dance in front of my eyes and it fades to black.
I am my own face beneath the ice.
My dirty little secret: I fantasize of drowning.
Now for a reviewer poll!
The next oneshot should be on:
A. Dean Thomas
B. Justin Finch-Fletchy
C. Blaise Zaibini
D. Hermione Granger