If Only We Knew (Agnes)

Hunter had never truly realized how much of a git he was before. Had he really been reduced to misery when he’d lost Aoife as a best friend? How many times had he acted as though small, insignificant things were the end of the world? During those times, he hadn’t even known that this kind of despair was possible – yet, despair was now upon his shoulders every single day, only burying him further and further beneath its impossible weight. A week had passed, but none of the grief that clouded Hunter’s world had gone with it – he just couldn’t bring himself to accept that Jack was no longer alive. Every day, just as Hunter woke up, it felt as though his brother was still there. And every morning, he glanced over Jack’s bed, wondering why he hadn’t already been awoken by a pillow or some other object decked in his direction. But then, he would see his brother’s empty bed – a complete mess, with sheets and comforters jumbled on each other – exactly as he had left it. And he would remember.

Hunter had always taken out his feelings in violent, physical ways. And for most things, it was enough to take his mind off of his problems – enough to release whatever tension had been building in his chest. But no matter how much he screamed, what he kicked, how many things he destroyed – nothing could relieve the overwhelming feeling of loss that accompanied his misery. Nothing would bring his brother back. And it was this knowledge that broke Hunter completely. Leaving his home to return to Hogwarts was the easiest thing that Hunter had been forced to endure all week – and it was also the most cowardly decision that he had ever made in his life.

In truth, Hunter wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when his father pulled him aside and asked him the question. He’d been expecting it – dreading it – and prepared to refuse. Without Jack, keeping up with the farmwork would be difficult for Hunter’s father. With all of them at Hogwarts, there was no hope for his mother, who was beyond devastated and would be left to days of loneliness, without any of her children there to ease the pain. But when Hunter’s father had asked him to stay back – to wait a few months to return to school – he had adamantly refused. It was beyond cowardly – it was sinful. But Hunter couldn’t stay. He had to escape the suffocation of the farm, where Jack’s presence haunted him every day. How many times had he said that the hardest part about going to Hogwarts was leaving his brother behind? He’d never in his life expected to want exact that – to leave Jack behind.

It wasn’t until the station was completely out of sight that Hunter felt only the smallest, most miniscule wave of relief rush through his body. The empty space beside his parents as they waved goodbye caused guilt and misery to pierce him like a knife. He sat alone, in an empty compartment – and not surprisingly, nobody bothered him. One or two of his friends looked in on him, but quickly gave in to his desire for solitude. They understood – and everyone knew. The fact that your brother was murdered in the middle of one of the most crowded wizarding locations in London wasn’t something that you could hide. Hunter didn’t care if they knew or not – as long as they left him alone. The rumbling of the train beneath him was almost soothing, and Hunter became quickly lost in thought and memory as he stared out the window, not noticing the compartment door begin to slide open.

Well, shit. She was officially a Hogwarts student. Goodbye Beauxbatons, goodbye Paris. In a way, Agnes was happy. Being away from Paris meant being away from thoughts she didn't want. She might not admit this to anyone, but at the time she was sure she loved him. She was sure she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. "But what can a 15-year-old girl know about love?" had said her aunt Stella. For almost a year, Agnes had drowned in the security of her parents, in Alexandre's smile, and in her aunt's secret-keeping talent.

So now she stood only feet away from the train that would take her to a school she didn't like, and didn't want to attend. Agnes frowned, as she did most of these days, and didn't exactly hug her mother back when it was needed. She felt her mother's arms around her, trying to take away a bit of what was hurting her youngest child, but Agnes stood still. Her arms fell limply to her sides, and her eyes were fixed on the smoke blowing from the train. Such contamination, disgusting. Her mother let go, and Agnes gave her a smile. It was a real smile, no matter how quick, because despite everything, Agnes would miss her. Taking a muggle photography book out of her trunk, Agnes got on the train and the blood in her body bundled up in her stomach to create the most dissatisfying feeling in the world.

Her hands kept close to her body, the book gripped tightly. Every compartment she looked in was full. Full in the sense of there were too many people to fit in one place, and full in the sense of the people in there looked like idiots she didn't want to be associated with. Agnes had never felt as alone as she did now. She looked in one compartment and this kid about 13-years-old smiled brightly and innocently at her. Agnes smiled back, but she kept walking as she didn't want to have to deal with telling people about her life or listening to them talk about theirs.

Finally, towards the end of the train, she found one that was mostly empty. In fact, it was empty. The only person inside was some guy she obviously didn't know and he looked as dead as could be. She debated walking farther down to see if she could find one completely empty, with no physical presence of anyone she might not like. But her fingers found the handle of the door and slid it open just enough for her to walk through. She closed it almost as quickly as she opened it, fearing the dead kid would suddenly come to life and bark at her.

Taking a seat across from him, as close to the window as she could get, Agnes opened her picture book and started to admire the artwork. Damn, Alex. Thanks for getting me into everything She wasn't looking at the pictures, though. She was thinking about her reckless decision to sit for hours in the same compartment as this undead being. It seemed like he wanted to be alone, sitting all the way down here, and even though Agnes wanted to be alone too, she didn't want to be lonely.

Maybe, just the presence of someone, regardless of how lifeless they looked, made her feel better.

It was strange, really - the intense desire to be alone. Maybe if Hunter had gone to sit with his friends, they would have been able to take his focus off of the terrible thoughts racing through his mind. Maybe, they would have been able to ease the tightness of his chest, if only slightly. Maybe, he would even be joining in their conversation, sipping on a butterbeer - doing anything but sitting there, haunted by the pain and the memories with no way out. So why was it that he chose to avoid them - to suffocate himself with torturous images of his brother? Cold. Lifeless. Dead. Maybe it was because he didn't want to be seen like this, reduced to a silent, hollow shell of himself. Or because he knew that it would only take the slightest mistake - on his friends' part or his own - to push him into violence. And in his despair-driven, weakened state, Hunter's control was limited once he allowed his emotions to take over. Maybe, it was simply because Hunter wanted to be miserable - to sit there and grieve and drown in his loss.

Hunter had never experienced loss before - not loss like this. This was dark, deep - permanent. It surrounded him and filled him. It polluted the air for miles and miles and he knew that there was no escape. He could temporarily rid himself of the anger and anxiety and grief - but no matter what he did, the loss remained. The absence of his brother was the loudest thing that Hunter had ever heard, and the dull ache in his chest was the most sickening thing he had ever experienced in his life. And with such a constant reminder, Hunter now existed only in unpredictable extremes. He either remained in a depressive silence, or became dangerously violent. There was often very little warning that he was about to transition from one to the other.

The cool end-of-summer breeze drifting through the open window of the compartment was pleasant, but brought little comfort. Still, it was enough reason to sit by the window and watch the scenery pass by as the train rolled along. Despite not having heard the compartment door open, Hunter's peripheral vision informed him that someone had slipped inside. He couldn't tell who - only that it was too tall to be a younger student. That meant that, most likely, they would realize their mistake when they saw who they'd walked in on and retreat immediately, so Hunter ignored them completely. But the intruder didn't go away. This in itself peaked his curiosity enough for him to shift his eyes in the direction of the door. He expected to see a familiar face - maybe Seren or Ariel, coming to check on him. But it wasn't Seren, or Ariel. It wasn't even someone that he knew.

The girl that entered was thin, with long, light brown hair and very fair skin, and was confusingly unfamiliar. Hunter's eyes followed her scrutinizingly as she crossed the compartment and sat down without a word. She couldn't be much older than him - so how was it possible that Hunter didn't know who she was? Hunter knew everyone - and more importantly, everyone knew him. But he was very certain that he hadn't ever seen this girl before in his life - she was actually pretty enough that he would remember seeing her, even if it was briefly. Which meant that, whoever she was, she had no idea who she was intruding on. So it was only fair that Hunter use whatever restraint he had to glare at her until she became uncomfortable to up and leave - only she didn't. She wasn't even looking at him. Instead, she opened some book and started flipping through the pages.

After a few moments, Hunter was no longer able to hold back his irritation - or, though he didn't want to admit it, his curiosity. So, without averting his harsh gaze from her, he acknowledged the girl. "Who the hell are you?" he asked her, his voice low and even, and most certainly not friendly. He could have just told her to leave - that would have probably been more effective. But even in his current state, Hunter wanted to know the explanation for her existence. Hunter remained silent - unmoving - as he waited for her response. If she knew what was good for her, she would tell him who she was, and then she would leave.

She looked through the pages, taking in the composition of the photographs and the way they seemed to tell a story of their own. It wasn't like fairy tales at all, photographs were different because they were real. They told of feelings; mourning, joy, infinity, jealousy, all of those things people were often too afraid to show verbally were shown through their actions, their expressions. She dwelled on that thought, on what she was afraid to say but felt very deeply. She was disappointed. But who was there to take her photograph and show the world what she herself couldn't show? Nobody. Alexandre was there to paint her, but it wasn't the same. Paintings were usually biased by what the artist saw in the subject, photographs were real. And if anyone were to ask, her favorite photographs were candids. Pictures of family while out of vacation, an unexpected photograph of her mother's smile when Ansel came home, all of those things showed raw beauty.

Agnes looked at a photograph of a lioness, the way she protected her cub from the lion, fierce and determined. There was a wild streak in her eyes, something Agnes couldn't exactly relate to because the only person she would ever protect that much was her brother. She was doing so even now, and the hardest part was sacrificing her time with him. She turned the page and heard the lifeless boy from across ask, very rudely, who she was. Waiting for a couple of beats, Agnes kept her eyes on the book. "Why do you want to know?" Though, after thinking it rude to not look at him, Agnes' eyes lifted from the photographs.

The guy, who she could now tell was not really dead but rather angry, was looking at her harshly and Agnes tried her best not to glare back at him. There was a strangeness to his voice, too monotone, maybe. He was the attractive sort of guy. The fit-and-he-knows-it kind. Agnes chose a wrong person to sit with, definitely. She wasn't going to show him that, though, so she said, "Agnes. That's what it says on my birth certificate, at least. But I could be something else." She didn't see a point in asking such a stupid question. If he wanted to know WHO she was, he was going to have to be a worthy friend, and Agnes couldn't see herself befriending him any time soon. She was, however, intrigued by his rudeness.

Hunter raised both eyebrows at the girl's reaction - primarily, because she hardly reacted at all. She didn't even look at him. She just retorted with a far too predictable response, her eyes never leaving her stupid book. Hunter instantly felt fury rise up in him - how could she sit there and act as though his question was no more significant than what she'd had for breakfast? How could anyone sit there so calmly and take so much interest in some stupid book when Hunter's entire world was crumbling - literally falling to pieces with no hope of ever becoming whole again. Yet, she sat there and stared at her book as though there wasn't a damn thing wrong with the world and asked him why he wanted to know who she was. Who the fuck did she think she was?

Fighting back the sudden urge to scream at this mysterious, idiotic girl, whoever she might be, Hunter just watched her, his gaze hardening by the second. He knew that the moment he opened his mouth, he wouldn't be able to stop himself - not that he cared that he would upset her. But he was sure that if he allowed anger to take over, what was left of the train ride would be completely unbearable. And he'd end up breaking a window or something, or another hand. Even if it caused her to escape the compartment, it wouldn't help. Not really. Thankfully, Hunter didn't have to wait long before the girl's face lifted. His head tilted ever-so-slightly as her eyes met his - they were strangely piercing. His brow creased slightly as he took in her features more thoroughly, but otherwise didn't react.

Agnes. Hunter's mind echoed the name, but he didn't bother to voice his own. What the hell was she even talking about? Was she trying to infuriate him. "You could also be somewhere else," Hunter pointed out, his voice raising ever so slightly without him really meaning for it to. He took a breath to calm himself, still trying to control his anger, and took that moment to avert his gaze from her face to the window. "I don't really care who you are. I meant what are you doing here," Hunter told her, not putting any effort into making the statement sound nicer than it was. Then, just in case the girl wasn't smart enough to figure it out on her own, he added, "I've never seen you before."

And that meant that she hadn't ever been there before. Because Hunter was, for lack of a better word, pretty popular as far as Hogwarts went. Though, even as he thought it, he knew that he probably didn't look it now. If he told this girl that he had friends upon friends, not to mention a girlfriend - that there probably weren't many people at Hogwarts that didn't know his name - she would probably call him a liar. For a moment, he wondered if he should just go find them - his friends. It might be better than dealing with some perfect girl with some perfect life who had no idea what he'd been through. But even with her frustrating presence, Hunter knew that he couldn't be in a crowded compartment among his friends right now. So he stayed, still holding out for the possibility that she might give up and leave him be.

There was something absolutely wrong with this guy. He seemed angry, not at her, of course, but just angry. She had no idea who he was and she could already tell that much. He was practically an open book. “What’s up with you?” She demanded. He kept glaring at her like she was the most annoying person he’d ever come across when she hadn’t even done anything. Aside from giving him her name, she was completely innocent. “You look like you had a very hard time swalloing your cereal this morning.” She said this because he was pissing her off. What was he doing anyway? Trying to scare her? Stupid boy. Stupid, indeed.

“I could be. But I don’t want to.” Agnes said before turning back to her book. She tried focusing on the photograph in front of her but found it hard when this idiot was being...well, an idiot. She didn’t bother to tell him that she was a transfer student, that she wasn’t British and that she wasn’t going to move to another compartment. “Of course you haven’t.” Ass. She obviously hadn’t seen HIM before today. She rolled her eyes without looking back at him. Seriously, did he think she was so thick she wouldn’t know they were strangers. What was his name anyway? Wait, Agnes. No, don’t ask. He might bite your head off.

She flipped the page, but suddenly found her brief peacefullness hard to find again. This, whatever he was, was killing her mood. Agnes closed the book, making sure it was loud enough to annoy him, and put it aside. She then looked out the window, watching the scenery outside. It was beautiful, and much more pleasant than the current company. She wanted to leave, but she wasn’t going to do it now that he had been a complete asshole to her about it. Let him deal with it. She was going to do whatever she wanted.

Hunter immediately knew that he should leave. He would be much better off if he just stood up, grabbed his things, and went to sit somewhere else. The trouble it would save him was probably well worth the effort - this girl definitely was not. But for some reason, Hunter remained rooted to the spot. Because, somehow, somewhere deep below the layers of misery and grief and loss, his stubbornness sparked ever so slightly. And though it shouldn't matter - didn't matter - he knew that retreating would be admitting defeat. And it wasn't fair for anyone to expect Hunter to admit defeat - not when he was already so defeated. She would be the one to leave - not him.

Hunter had to take a deep breath to calm himself when the girl asked what was wrong with him. Maybe he could just throw her out of the window - she was definitely small enough - that way, he'd win whatever ridiculous, one-sided battle he'd gotten himself into and wouldn't have to deal with this girl ever again as a bonus. But when she went on, making some ridiculous cereal comment, Hunter felt his self-control slip. "Yeah, well, some of us have bigger problems than the cereal we had for breakfast," he snapped angrily, his glare darkening dangerously. "Not that you'd know what that's like." Because from the look of her, she was probably that perfect girl who had a perfect life and a perfect family and lived in a disgusting, sugar coated world of fucking perfectness. What the hell did she know? Obviously not that Hunter's anger was caused by something that she couldn't hope to understand.

Maybe it would be fair of Hunter to give her a warning - to let her know that she was incredibly close to crossing the line between moderately annoying him and severely pissing him off. As she spoke again, making it clear that she didn't plan on leaving any time soon, Hunter's focus shifted to her voice. In the midst of his fury, he hadn't even noticed - she had an accent. She was french - a transfer, then. It didn't make a difference, and as she said she didn't want to be anywhere else, Hunter's curiosity and irritation both melted into anger. "Why not?" he retorted. "Did everyone else that you tried to sit with think you were an annoying bitch, too?" Hunter's eyes met hers once more, and held her gaze for a few moments as though he might still be able to intimidate her into leaving.

But no, she didn't seem to be going anywhere. Instead, she closed her book - more like slammed her book - and turned to look out of the window. Did she really think it was that easy? "Fine then, have it your way," Hunter told her, an edge creeping into his voice. He then crossed his arms and slouched down into the corner of the compartment he was sitting in and kicked his feet up onto the seat across from him to make himself comfortable - only half an inch from the obnoxious foreign girl who couldn't take a hint. In the process, he knocked her stupid book down onto the floor. It was an accident, but a nice touch. Rather than saying sorry, he just stared at her angrily. If she wanted to sit there, then fine. But she wasn't going to enjoy the experience.

Agnes tried to ignore him, to be the adult and pretend he wasn’t being a little shit. But he was and there was no way to go around it other than by leaving and letting him win. Agnes wasn’t going to do that, no way.  She glared back at him, trying to mimic his angst.  Oh, so he was going to talk to her like he knew everything about her. Good, she could do that too. She tried to think of something to say, but she was angry at him for being SUCH A DICK. What did she even to to anger him? The train is technically free, there is not such thing as assigned seating. She could sit wherever she wanted to. Slowly, she narrowed her eyes, held up both her fists as if she were to punch him, but instead raised both of her middle fingers. Double FUCK-YOU.

Without even trying to listen to him or make him see sense, she turned around and faced the other way.  Not even the summer scenery was going to lift her mood now.  Her head wiped back to him when he flat out insulted her. “I didn’t try to sit with anyone else because they all looked like idiots.” she said harshly. It was probably the nicest thing she’d said to him so far, because he didn’t LOOK like an idiot. He just was. “But, hey, thanks for telling me what I already know. You're very smart to have caught that.” She faked a smiled, her lips tight. She was so close to being done with his shit. So close.

Agnes didn’t even try to speak to him again. He was not worth it, but she was NOT going to leave. Even if he threatened to hurt her, she would scream and kick and punch and everything. She was not going to be put down by this neanderthal. She was fine with him just sitting there, regardless of how close he was, because he wasn’t exactly doing anything to her. That is, until he dropped her book. Agnes almost stood up and slapped him. He was acting like a 5 year old! A toddler! He was probably sixteen or something like that. What a disgrace. If Agnes had HIM for a brother, she would disown him. She would say he wasn’t related to her. Without saying anything to him, she picked up her book and put it behind her, pressed against her back, and then turned her eyes to him. She was not going to look away until he did.

Hunter watched on, waiting for the girl's reaction - not that he really gave a shit about what she had to say. But apparently, she didn't plan on saying anything, and Hunter's eyebrows raised in surprise at the reaction that she did give him. Did she seriously just do that? Hunter released a humorless laugh, shaking his head incredulously, as she went on to flip him off with both hands. Apparently she had a bit more fire than he'd originally given her credit for. It struck him that if the situation were different - if it were anything other than what it was - he might find her nerve intriguing. Or at the very least, amusing. But right now, it was neither of those things. At the moment, it was only pissing him off.

The girl then pointed out that everyone else had looked like idiots. Hunter assumed that actually meant that everyone else was enjoying themselves and having a good time, and that the girl sitting across from him was too boring and stuck up to want to join in. She'd probably looked in on his friends' compartment and seen Ariel morphing her face into something weird and heard Aoife talking about sheep and turned up her nose and walked right past. "Well, sorry to hear that everyone here is beneath you," Hunter retorted, a defensive tone rising in his voice. What did she know about the people here, anyway? "And if you don't want people to point it out, maybe you should try being a little more discreet about it."

Hunter watched the girl as she bent down to pick up the book that he'd knocked over, not bothering to move his legs out of the way to make it any easier for her. Maybe she'd pick it up and realize just how unwelcome she was and then she would leave. But no, she just tucked it behind her back and turned her gaze on him, apparently trying to start some kind of staring contest. Hunter met her gaze evenly for a few moments, but then turned his eyes on the window. He wasn't in the mood to play this girl's games. He would just ignore her and take every opportunity that he could to make her life hell while she was there. If she wouldn't leave, she was going to wish she did.

But Hunter's plan quickly proved to be a failure, because for some reason her very presence caused his irritation to grow with every moment. He couldn't wallow in his sorrow properly with her sitting across from him, and her silence felt even louder than her words, making him want to punch something. Hunter couldn't deal with her being there any longer. He'd wanted to sit alone for a reason, and this girl needed to leave him be. "Look, I don't know if I made it clear before, but I really don't want you here," he said bluntly, despite the fact that he was sure she understood perfectly. "You need to get the fuck out." This was her last chance to get out of his sight. If she refused, Hunter would make her.

She was seriously about to lose it. Agnes just didn't understand why he was being so rude. He was being irrational, crazy. Still, she gave him nothing when his hideous laugh filled the room. Agnes sat still, only moving to cross her legs and turn to look toward the door. She was really contemplating standing up to leave, letting him win this one since she was never going to see him again. One lost battle to a stranger might be worth it. Besides, she wasn't in the mood to argue with him anymore. She just wanted the train to arrive at Hogwarts sdo she could go to her new commom room, Gryffindor or whatever, and sleep right through the ceremonies and all that shit.

She ignored his insults, mainly because this was getting too childish and annoying. Agnes wanted a legitimate reason as to why she couldn't sit where she wanted, and him not wanting here there was not it. Because, in reality, they didn't even have to speak to each other. They didn't have to LOOK at each other. So she turned her eyes to the window again, because she wanted to drown out the sound of his voice. She did take a bit of pride in him being the one to look away first.

She was still looking out the window, taking in the dizzying movement of the trees, when he bluntly stated what he really wanted. Agnes was still so confused, because this guy had hated her without even talking to her. For a moment, she wondered if she had accidentally kicked him while walking in or something like that. But she was very sure she hadn't done anything. At least, not yet. Everything he had said had built up inside her and she knew that she was done with his shit. She was absolutely done. Without even thinking about what she was doing, Agnes reached over to his side of the compartment and whipped her hand across his face, as hard as she could. The contact made her hand burn, and because she had never slapped anyone before she worried that it might have hurt her more than it did him.

Agnes wasn't even going to apologize, instead, she yelled at him. "NOW, you can have a legitimate reason to treat me like that." She breathed, the anger burning in her lungs, but just then the lady and her giant cart of candy opened the door to their compartment. She had this look of worry on her wrinkled face, like she might call for someone with authority to help with the situation. But she didn't do anything, she just closed the door awkwardly and left to continue her candy business. Agnes lost her temper right then, and she made the mistake of looking back at the boy.

In the few moments of silence before Hunter couldn't take it anymore, he wondered what house this girl was going to be in. He wondered if she'd been sorted yet - he wasn't so sure how that worked, with transfer students. They'd had a few - Tor, and that Anthony bloke. But Hunter had never seen any of them be sorted. So it must happen privately. Maybe she already knew what house she would be in - if not, maybe he could steal the sorting hat during the welcoming feast and threaten to light it on fire if it sorted her into Gryffindor. Though, in all honesty, Hunter wouldn't be surprised if that was where she ended up. She acted like a Gryffindor.

After pointing out to her that she needed to leave in the most impolite way he could think of, Hunter moved his legs from where they were propped on her seat so that she had a clear path to the exit. Only, once again, she didn't leave. Hunter was almost confused at her lack of reaction. What kind of new student was so adamant about staying in a compartment with someone who so obviously didn't want them there. Didn't new students want to be liked? So why was she still there? "Okay, seriously, are you always such a stubborn - " Hunter began angrily, but never got to finish his sentence. Because just then, the girl reached over from where she was seated and slapped him across the face.

The impact was heavy enough that it caused his head to jolt to the side, and while it wasn't exactly debilitating, it did sting a bit. Hunter instantly turned his gaze back on her, a look of shock on his face. Had she really just done that? Hunter was used to being hit - Seren had slapped him after the closet incident and Aoife always hit him. It rarely hurt, and Hunter usually paid it no mind. But the girl sitting in front of him, however thin and fragile she looked, definitely had an arm on her. Or maybe it was just the anger that she'd thrown into the action.

Then she was yelling at him, but Hunter wasn't paying attention to what she was saying. Because, as the shock ebbed away, anger flared up in his chest, his body tensing. The only thing saving her right now was that she was a girl - if she weren't, Hunter would have already slammed his fist into her face. But he couldn't, and along with the anger came a slight feeling of panic, because he didn't have any way to release it. Not while she was there. As much as he couldn't stand her, he wasn't going to fall into one of his violent phases while she was present. Sometime in the middle, the door to the compartment slid open - just what Hunter needed. More people to bother him. But it was just the candy lady, and she had retreated, shutting the door behind her, before Hunter could even ask her for a box of bertie botts.

Hunter took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. But the moment that she turned back to him, and he met her gaze, he snapped. "That's enough," he said lowly, a dangerous tone creeping into his voice. "It's time for you to go." And she was going to go, whether she liked it or not. So, with that, Hunter reached out and swept one arm around her thin waist and started to head toward the hallway, with every intention of dragging her out of the compartment if he had to. Despite how petite she was, he was surprised at how light her weight felt. This would be too easy, and then she'd be gone. Simple as that.

He was shocked. Good. He deserved it! Agnes took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. She wasn’t completely sure why she had done it, but it was done so she might as well leave and let him drown in whatever misery he had going on. Maybe a girl he liked had rejected him and now he was so angry with the world or something like that. Yeah, that must be it. She wasn’t sure exactly when his eyes turned from shock into pure rage, but they did and Agnes was a little afraid right then. Taking one last look at him, he was not even attractive, Agnes was about to reach out for her book when she felt his arm around her. She turned to look at him, scared and ready to kick him if it was needed. He was dragging her out!

Not surprisingly, he was stronger than her, and way stronger than he looked. However, maybe it felt that way because his grip actually hurt. “Stop it, you ass!” She yelled and tried to get out of his grasp. He was hurting her and it wasn’t fair. Technically, since she’d slapped him, it WAS fair but she was a girl and he wasn’t supposed to touch her that way!! When he finally made it to the door, which seemed like the longest distance at the moment, Agnes managed to turn around so that she could face him. And then, instead of doing something shitty like in those muggle movies where the girl falls stupidly in love with her killer, she grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to make sure she wouldn’t fall backward and hit herself instead, and brought her knee up enough to hit him in that one area of his body where it would hurt him most. She didn’t just knee him, she made sure she made enough damage for him to fall to the floor in pain or something like that. Agnes actually didn’t even have time to see what the effect of her defense was because she walked out into the hallway and pointed her way towards the guy, who she could now see clearly, and a white flash of light went in his direction.

When he stood up and looked at himself, IF Agnes’ aim had been amazingly on point, he would hate her even more. He would look at his uglier version. Without thinking about it twice, Agnes walked away from the scene quickly, diverting her eyes from the curious onlookers who had gathered outside their compartments. She slid her wand inside her sleeve and carried it by the tip with her hand closed into a fist. Stupid boy. It had also been her fault, sure, but he didn’t have to actually use violence. She walked a few more compartments down, and noticed a few younger students turning their hair different colors. Taking a deep breath, again, to erase the anger and adrenaline from her face, she slid the door very slightly and knocked. “Hey, mind showing me that spell?”

Despite the stinging force behind the girl's attack on his face, Hunter had little trouble getting her to the door with just one arm tucked tightly around her waist. She really was light. Hunter glared down at her when she started to struggle, and was forced to grip her arm with his free hand to keep her from escaping his grasp. "In case you've forgotten, it was you who slapped me," Hunter told her angrily, ignoring her attempts to free herself. He kept a tight grip on her until he reached the door, at which time he had to loosen at least one arm to open the door, so that he could shove her into the hallway and lock the door behind her.

Apparently, though, giving the girl any semblance of freedom was the worst thing he could have done. The second he loosened his grip, she spun around and - holy fuck. He grunted at the impact of the blow and in an instant, Hunter was doubled over in pain, completely unable to speak. It took him a few moments to even catch his breath, but when he did, he felt his anger resurface. "Get out," he growled at her from his hunched position, staring at the floor. He was actually a bit sure he might have blacked out there for a second. Maybe. All he knew was that, if this girl knew what was good for her, she wouldn't still be in his sight when he overcame the pain that was balling up in the pit of his stomach.

Then, she'd pulled out her wand and there was a bright light, and Hunter felt something graze the side of his cheek - and then she was gone. Hunter looked up in surprise at the empty space where she had stood, having no idea what spell she'd even sent his way. It didn't hurt, so it couldn't be that bad. And it wasn't important, because there was still so much pain! Hunter leaned his head against one of the seats, closing his eyes, and tried to will it away. But it felt like forever before he was finally good to stand up. As he did, he winced, and decided that he'd just endured possibly the worst physical pain he'd ever experienced thus far. And as a rather violent person, who punched things, that was saying something. Hunter was vaguely aware of the fact that she may have permanently destroyed his ability to one day have children.

As he pulled himself into a standing position, Hunter just happened to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the door. At first he didn't think anything of it, but then he did a double take. Because now it was clear what the spell had done. One side of his face was normal - perfectly fine. But the other - the side that the jinx had grazed - was hideous. Horrendous looking and disfigured and just pure ugly. Hunter stared at himself for a minute, eyes wide, before deciding that he would make it his personal mission to be sure this girl wished that she'd never stepped foot in Hogwarts.

But really, what did it matter? What difference did it make if his face was disfigured, in light of everything else going on with his life? And as he made his way back to his seat, all of his despair began to wash over him again. And Hunter almost laughed at himself, because in that moment, he almost wished that the girl hadn't left. Because, for that short time, regardless of how much of an annoying, obnoxious, stuck up bitch she was, she'd actually managed to take his mind off of the terrible, haunting thoughts that were drifting through his consciousness. He'd been able to focus on her snide remarks, her annoying presence - anything but the images that he knew he would always return to, in the end.

But she was gone now, just like Hunter had wanted her to be. And now he could be alone. He absentmindedly glanced over to where she'd been sitting, and found that it wasn't empty. When he'd thrown her out, she apparently hadn't had a chance to grab her book. Hunter reached across the compartment and grabbed it, flipping it open without any respect for her privacy whatsoever. It was boring - full of muggle pictures of stupid, boring things. Hunter momentarily thought about throwing it out the window, just to piss her off. But in the end, he just tucked it into his bag, before leaning back against the cushioned seat and staring out at the passing landscape and losing himself in memories once again.