Back To Square One (Agnes)

Days sucked. They were full of shit that Hunter didn't want to do and people that he didn't want to have to deal with. But as miserable and frustrating as each day was, trying to constantly keep his emotions in check enough to function without punching anyone in the face - no mater how furious or irritated he was - nights were always worse. Because the moment that Hunter sunk into bed, he realized how much he preferred frustration to the alternative. Nights were full of memory and desperation and sadness - the part of the day when there was nothing left to distract him, and he realized how tired and lost he really was. Hunter had actually taken to sleeping in the sixth year dorm, which was empty, because even Blake was too much company when the full weight of things collapsed on him once the day was done.

Not that it mattered much, because Hunter hardly spent any time in either dormitory. Sleep was impossible to come by, and the dark silence of the dorm only allowed Hunter's thoughts to wander. So, most nights, once it was late enough that everyone else had gone to bed, Hunter would head down. This night was no different - the moment his watch ticked to midnight, Hunter gathered a few of his school things and slipped down the stairs. On his way, he pulled out his wand and levitated his felix felices potion alongside him - the same potion that he'd been trying to brew in secret for just about three years. He had yet to get it right. It needed to be tended to on an almost constant basis, and since he'd probably be in the common room until dawn, it was easier to have it with him. Nobody was up this late on a school night to see it, anyway.

As he reached the empty, dark common room, he let the cauldron drift carefully to the coffee table and lit a burner beneath it, increasing the heat to a medium temperature. Then, with a lazy flick of his wand and a mumbled incantation, the fireplace came roaring to life, casting a flickering light across the room. Hunter's eyes watched the flames dance for a moment before he sunk into the couch with a sigh and leaned his head back against it. When had life become so hard? Things would have been simpler if Hunter had never been a wizard to begin with. He'd be home right now, sleeping in his own bed. He'd wake up and help with the chores. He'd study with his mother, who had home schooled them their whole lives. And then he'd probably go and hang out with Jack, who would still be alive. Because it had been magic that had killed Jack.

Cursing himself for even letting his mind go there, Hunter quickly reached into his bag, looking for his defense against the dark arts text. His eyes fell instead upon the stupid photo album that he'd taken from the bitch on the train - he'd stuck it in his bag at the time, and had forgotten about it until now. He wondered momentarily if she even missed it, but then pushed it aside, grabbing his Defense book instead, flipping through until he found the section about Patronuses. Hunter had never cared about school before, but even studying was better than what would happen if he didn't occupy himself somehow. A patronus was produced by coming up with a happy memory. Well, guess I better plan on failing DADA, he thought to himself, his eyes skimming along further in the book with every intention of keeping his mind from wandering to more disturbing thoughts.

Nights sucked. Night was when Agnes had all the time she could to think about what a dumbbutt she was. She laid in bed trying to figure out what she could do to keep herself from thinking and remembering. Usually, she slept all day during weekends when she chose to stay at the school instead of the usual trip to Hogsmeade for the rest of the students. Or she kept herself busy by practicing spells and finishing homework that she hadn’t turned in yet. Her days were fine, because she wasn’t thinking about it. But sleeping all day made it impossible to sleep at night, and since she couldn’t do much thanks to the curfew and the few girls in her dormitory, Agnes often tore at her hair trying to come up with something to keep her mind from wandering.

Today was one of those nights. She couldn’t stop turning around, covering and uncovering herself with the sheets, taking her wand and playing with the Lighting Charm. Agnes was restless. She threw the pillow over her head, trying to cover up the snoring from the girl on the bed next to hers. Gosh, this bitch. Through the fluffyness, the snoring was still audible, and Agnes finally gave up after what seemed to be an eternity. She threw her white, cold pillow to the girl. It hit her head perfectly, it should have woken her up and Agnes should have been facing an angry bear-like creature, but nothing happened. The girl kept on snoring. Ugh.

Sitting up on her bed, Agnes grabbed her comforter and a pillow and headed out to the Common Room. Maybe she would at least be able to rearrange the hideous decorations if she couldn’t fall asleep. The steps down were too long. Way too long. Agnes wore her yellow plaid pajama pants and her white tank top, because it was getting chilly in the dormitories but not cold enough to wear her pink onesie. Yes, Agnes had a cotton-candy-pink onesie for cold nights. Her hair was tangled, because she didn’t believe in putting it up in a bun or a braid or whatever. Her hair was wild from birth so it was going to stay that way all the time.

Finally reaching the Common Room, she rubbed her right eye with the palm of her hand, and then she stopped right where she was standing, at the bottom of the stairs. The Train-Idiot, the one who she had unfortunately been paired up with for Charms, was sitting near the fireplace. He seemed to be working on a potion or something but he was sitting on the couch, doing nothing. She was going to go back, run to her dormitory and pretend she’d never seen him, but the look in his face caught her eyes. He looked...miserable. Not in the way he did in the Train, but in a deeper sense. It was like he’d been through the worst movie ending and had not been able to recover from it. Like he’d lost all of his senses and could no longer find his way in the dark hallways.

He’s lost his brother. Agnes suddenly remembered the words Victoria had said, something about this idiot - Hunter VanDerberg - having lost his brother. Not sure whether it was an older or younger brother, Agnes suddenly felt an overwhelming sadness because, for a moment, she imagined what her life would be like if Ansel were dead. She stood there for a few moments, watching him dig through his bookbag and bring out a book. He scanned it, but for some reason Agnes felt like the words meant nothing. She’d been there. She’d been in that same state of numbness before, when the words on the pages were strange symbols that suddenly made no sense.

Filled with a strange wave of sympathy, Agnes pulled up her comforter and walked towards the couch in front of the neander- Hunter. She fell on the red, disgusting couch and pulled up her comforter, positioning her pillow on the arms so that she could lean and her side wouldn’t hurt. She glanced at him and then back at the fireplace. She didn’t feel welcome at all. It was a mistake. She really shouldn’t have done this. She shouldn’t have. Agnes cursed herself for a moment, but then, before Hunter could say anything, she muttered, ”I’m sorry. About kicking you.” Her fingers playing with the edges of the comforter, she looked at him again. She wasn’t glaring, just looking at him like she looked at Victoria and Ansel. “I see I didn’t ruin your face too much.” He still wasn’t attractive. Well, he was but not like the boy from- No. He was just a miserable boy who deserved an apology. But Agnes hoped, for his sake, that she really hadn’t screwed up his face so much.

The first time he'd entered Diagon Alley. Sitting around the kitchen table teasing the twins about being vegetarians. Joking around with Aoife while they were still friends, completely carefree and innocent and unaware of the world around them. Working at the joke shop with Ariel last term. Making out with Seren. Every moment he'd ever spent with Jack. The problem with this patronus shit wasn't that Hunter couldn't think of a happy memory. He had plenty. The problem was that he wasn't happy now, and any memory of happiness from the past only brought along a wave of bitterness with it. Because that was all they were - memories. Things that had once been but that were now gone. Replaced by the cruel reality of the world. There was no memory of his past that could overcome the loneliness of his present. Not one.

Hunter's then caught a glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision, and his eyes flicked almost lazily up from his book and landed upon - oh, her. Train bitch. Unmoving - and resisting the urge to flip her off - Hunter remained silent, his eyes following her as she drew closer and eventually sank down into the adjacent couch. He felt a small rush of confusion, but his face remained impassive. What was going on? If she thought that they could share the common room, she was wrong. And Hunter had been there first and wasn't about to leave. So he held his gaze on her, with the intention that she'd get uncomfortable enough to either leave or tell him what the hell she was doing.

He watched as she got comfortable - was she planning to stay for a while? Sure seemed like it. And then, to Hunter's surprise, she spoke. Mumbled, really, and Hunter strained his ears slightly to hear what she said. And he couldn't help the way his eyebrows raised in surprise as he recognized her words as an apology. And then, she raised her eyes to meet his gaze, and her look wasn't nearly as hate-filled as it should have been. More confusion washed over him - the train incident felt like it was ages ago. Why was she apologizing now? But suddenly, even as he thought it, it made sense, and the surprise that had flickered onto his face died instantly, falling once more into an even look. Not angry or hateful - just calculating. She knew.

And then, after what felt like ages of silence, but was probably only moments in reality, Hunter responded, his eyes leaving her face and returning to his book, although there was no hope now of actually reading it. "I guess there never have been any secrets in this place," he commented, his voice casual - almost disinterested - but cautious. "And you did ruin it - but don't be too proud because you only got half of it. Because it was really necessary after you assaulted me, I'm sure." His tone was far from joking, but he was almost surprised himself to find that it wasn't malicious. It just was.

Hunter glanced back up at her, trying to understand why she was even bothering with him. It was strange how things changed - how people changed. If Agnes been around to approach him last term, Hunter would have grinned at her and introduced himself, and they might have ended up friends. But now, he felt a strong uncertainty about how to react. It was obvious why she was apologizing, and Hunter didn't want to talk about it. But Agnes wasn't talking about it, really. She wasn't apologizing for what happened to Jack. She was only apologizing for what had happened on the train. And Hunter could handle that - and accept it.

"Just forget that it happened, okay?" he finally said, a sigh escaping his lips. Then, giving up on his book completely, he closed it and gave her his full attention. "Look, I'm not normally like that - or, at least, I wasn't before - " Honestly, why was it so hard to avoid mentioning his brother? Cutting himself off, Hunter took the conversation in a different direction. "I guess you know who I am, but I never really introduced myself, did I?" he asked, just for the sake of changing the subject. "Hunter," he said, holding his hand out in a mock official way, "And I've been referring to you as Train Bitch, but I guess Agnes is alright as well."

Hunter didn’t say anything. He just stared at her. Agnes felt small and unwanted; not the first time she’d felt that way. She was seriously considering leaving, not wanting to get dragged across the Common Room and wanting to stop her reputation from heading towards “The Girl Who Will Kick You in the Balls.” She didn’t really want any kind of reputation, she just wanted to graduate. Agnes had no connection to the school, she didn’t care for this place. Her mind was on her family, and in Paris...and sadly, Chasen. Obviously, she wouldn’t admit it, but she was also thinking about this guy’s brother. Not in the way where she thought about what his brother was like, but in the way that she wanted to be nice to Hunter simply because she knew that he was in fact miserable.

But then he answered. Relieved when he looked away, Agnes sighed. The worst is over. His words made her feel guilty, but she had no idea what was wrong with knowing about his brother. From what she gathered, Hunter had actually been popular before isolating himself. That’s what she’d heard and seen. “Secrets aren’t safe anywhere.” Agnes said, not shrugging like she normally would, but she looked at him again. She couldn’t imagine him smiling now, but she supposed he had one of those contagious smiles if he was as friendly as they said he used to be. She then dared to laugh a little, because she remembered how she’d hoped her aim was good enough for the spell to work. “Yeah, sorry about that. My brother taught me self-defense.” But his look wasn’t joking, so Agnes instantly shut up.

Was this when Agnes said something cheesy like “I’m sorry about your loss” or something like that? Agnes had never been to a funeral, never had anyone’s death to grief, so she had no idea what to do about this aside from what she’d seen on TV. She felt the overwhelming need to say something to him, but she the truth was that she didn’t know Hunter. She had no idea what he was like, what he used to be like, or what he would do if she even spoke of it. Deciding, on a three-second moment of reasoning, Agnes stayed quiet. Maybe if she didn’t say anything about it he would understand she didn’t really know what to do. Or maybe he’d just ignore that little fact. But, what if he wanted someone to say something? Maybe he was one of those people who needed comfort and all, but Agnes couldn’t give that anyway, so she kept her mind on staying quiet until he spoke again.

Nodding, Agnes watched him put away his book and laughed a little bit louder than the first time when he revealed the nickname he’d secretly given her. Taking his hand, Agnes said, still laughing, [color:6805=pink#ff99ff]“That’s a new one. I’ve never been called that.” She said and pulled her hand away, going to the warmth of the comforter and the couch. “Though, the train incident hadn’t really happened before.” She rested her chin on her hand and thought about the situation. This was irony. She had hated this guy before, but now she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t like him either, but she had this idea that they could now stand being in the same room without trying to kill each other. That was a nice feeling, it was like a sort of twisted housemate relationship. She didn’t even know how to explain it to herself.

“What’s in the cauldron?” she said, turning her eyes towards the fireplace. She was an okay student when it came to potions, but she was more curious than she was willing to help if he needed it. Then she remembered the Charms project. Does this mean we can now work on the project together? She wanted to ask, but decided against it. She could ask him later, if she didn’t fall asleep. Ha, no. There was no way she would fall asleep now.

Hunter glanced up at Agnes as she spoke. Ariel's soft, whimsical voice - Aoife's casual, sarcastic tone - they were familiar. Hunter latched onto the sound of them when they spoke, drawing comfort from them far more than he could from any touch or embrace. But the sound of the words escaping Agnes' mouth, ladened heavily with her french accent, was foreign to Hunter - completely unfamiliar. But in a way, the unfamiliarity was welcome. He'd expended so much effort on pushing away Ariel - on isolating himself from the people that he was close to - that it was almost a relief to be confronted with somebody different. Someone who didn't know him before.

"I guess that's true," Hunter agreed, pushing his thoughts about Ariel to the back of his mind. He'd destroyed whatever friendship they had left, and he had no right to be upset over it - he'd meant to. He'd done it on purpose. He just hadn't expected to regret it so much. "And I guess it's not exactly a secret." It wasn't a secret - but it should have been. It was nobody's right to intrude on his brother's death - on his family's grieving. It was nobody's right to know without Hunter telling them. But they did know - everyone knew. And there his mind was again, wandering.

And then she was talking again. "Yeah, well, I guess I probably shouldn't have carried you out of the compartment." It wasn't really an apology - more of a statement. But it was better than nothing. "That was actually a wicked spell, by the way. I'm lucky my friend Aoife doesn't know that one - I don't think my face would ever be normal." Aoife was scary when she got angry as it was - luckily, she was a lot like Hunter in the sense that she usually didn't resort to her wand in her anger. Hunter punched things. Aoife threw things. They were alike in that way. Maybe it had to do with being muggleborn.

There was a bit of silence then, and a glance at Agnes told Hunter that she seemed a little unsure of herself. There was a moment when he was afraid she was going to bring it up, but thankfully, she remained quiet, and the moment passed without incident. When Hunter told her what he'd been calling her, Agnes burst into laughter, and Hunter raised an eyebrow in surprise. He'd been picturing her as the angry, stoic type - almost like Seren. But as her laughter continued, Hunter felt the corner of his mouth tug up in amusement. "You earned it," he told her, shrugging. "Oh, so you don't make a habit out of kicking people in the balls when they piss you off? Because I know you kicked Evan Williams." His tone wasn't angry - it was more amused than anything. "Like I said, there have never been any secrets in this place."

Shit. He'd forgotten completely about the cauldron. Well, he hadn't forgotten about it, but he'd forgotten that he didn't want anyone else to see it. "A potion," he replied instantaneously, not elaborating any further than that. Checking his watch, and realizing that he needed to tend to it, Hunter dug into his bag for his bottle of dittany. Leaning forward, he let three drops fall into the cauldron and stirred it three quarter turns counterclockwise. Re-stoppering the dittany bottle, he opened his bag to shove it back inside. And his eyes once again landed on the photo album. Agnes' photo album. He'd forgotten about it. Deciding there was no reason to keep it from her now, he pulled it out. "Here. You left it in the compartment on the train," he said, stretching his arm out to hand it to her.

Agnes agreed, not sure on what she should say again. Obviously, she didn’t know anything about Hunter aside from the fact that he had a dead brother, and that wasn’t something she wanted to brag about knowing. She let another small laugh escape when Hunter told her about his friend, Aoife?, who could possibly use the spell against him too. From what she gathered already, he wasn’t very good with girls. “If I ever meet her, I promise not to teach it to her.” she said, but then remembered that the spell she had used on Hunter was actually dark magic. She should have not known how to do that, but Ansel knew many spells and jinxes and curses, so it was easy for her to learn them from him. Agnes decided to keep her mouth shut about that.

She thought about what he said, about who he was talking about, some Evan Williams. Her eyebrows narrowed, and her lip curled a bit as she thought about it. She only remembered kicking him…wait. No, she had kicked another boy! Well, she’d kneed him but it was still the same thing. She didn’t laugh this time, because she felt bad for this Evan character, having to suffer through the pain of being kicked in the balls. “I should probably apologize to him too, but he deserved it.” she told him. Then, sitting up on the couch, she added, “He likes to go around touching people’s butts, apparently.” She didn’t really want to know anything about him right now, just wanted to focus on mending her ruined reputation with Hunter.

Hunter looked suspicious, and naturally, Agnes had to question. “What kind of potion…?” She raised her eyebrow at him. She watched him place three drops in the potion, stir it and go through his book bag again. This time, he pulled out her book. Her photograph book. Taking it, Agnes smiled as her fingers brushed the cover. “Thanks.” she told him and held it close to her, like she was being given a part of her that she’d lost. She hadn’t thought about the book, though, it was all about Hunter’s rudeness when she thought of the train. “I like photography. It's in random shots that you find people being themselves. And I really like that.” Agnes told him; something that she had never really told anyone. Hunter was strange, someone she didn’t know, so sharing this bit of her was fine because the chances of his judging words hurting here were very slim.

Hunter snorted in amusement as Agnes promised to keep her ugly-spell to herself. "Thanks, I guess, but she doesn't really need a spell to mess up my face." After a moment of hesitation, he explained. "I asked her out in third year." Feeling far more comfortable with Agnes' presence than he'd anticipated, he reached into his bag to pull out a pack of bertie botts, prying it open and popping a few in his mouth. "She threw a chair at me," he finished, holding out the box to offer her some. "And you might've seen her around, you can't miss her. Gryffindor, bright red hair, obnoxious Shaun the Sheep bag."

Holding a sketchy brown bertie botts bean up to his eyes and failing to peg what it was, Hunter threw it into his mouth and chewed it anyway. His face scrunched unpleasantly as he swallowed it. "Ugh, dirt," he commented. "Thought it might be coffee or chocolate or something." Some people were turned off from Bertie Botts when they got a bad one, but Hunter instantly dug into the pack for more. That was the point of them, after all. "But yeah, most people here are alright. All of the Gryffindors are, at least. Aoife's weird, but entertaining. Blake's cool, even if he spends half his time in the library. Ignore my sister, Lyra. And Ariel is - " Hunter had been about to say the most awesome person you will ever meet or something along those lines, but then cut himself off. "She's cool, too."

The moment Agnes said she should probably apologize to Evan too, Hunter was shaking his head. "Nah, he's a git," he told her instantly. He raised an eyebrow at her when she commented on his touching her butt. Hunter had seen it happen, and he knew that Evan had tripped. But if it made the git's life harder, Hunter had no problem with fully agreeing with Agnes' version of the story. "He did that?" Hunter asked, throwing an disgusted edge into his voice just for the hell of it. "Wow, what an ass - but, he always has been. He's a seventh year, so he'll be gone next term at least. That is, if nobody throws him off the astronomy tower first."

Did she really have to push it? Hunter gave her a sharp look before responding. "Well obviously, it's a potion that I'm not supposed to be making, or I would have told you when you asked." Then, he sighed. What the hell, he thought. The whole conversation was bizarre enough anyway. "It's felix felices. But if you say a word about it to anyone, I'll make sure that we fail the charms project." He didn't know her, so he couldn't just trust her. But threatening her was a decent way to make sure she didn't run around telling everyone. Leblanc would never fail anyone, but she might not know that yet.

As Agnes pulled the book from his grasp and hugged it to her chest, Hunter gave her a small smile. It wasn't a real smile, but it was honest enough because in that moment, he was glad he'd given it back to her. It obviously meant a lot to her. But he wasn't really expecting her to tell him anything about herself in that moment. He tilted his head, listening to her words, and nodded slowly when she'd gone quiet. "Catching people when they're themselves isn't easy," he commented. The older everyone seemed to get, the less genuine everyone seemed to become. Especially Hunter himself, who was more guarded than not in his everyday life. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to tell you what I like to do in return?" he asked, a bit of humor in his voice. Then, without waiting for a response, he continued. "I like flying. I'm a chaser for Gryffindor. And I like potions, but I'm rubbish at all other things magic." Another bertie botts bean. "So, what's your story, anyway? You went to Beauxbatons?"

Agnes tried not to laugh at Hunter's misfortune. She was right, he wasn't very good with girls. Smiling, she reached out to take a few beans and thanked him, trying to think if she'd ever seen this Aoife character. She'd seen lots of brunettes, and a few blondes, but Agnes hadn't seen a red head yet. Maybe she just wasn't paying much attention, though, because her eyes were always drawn to the sky. Agnes lived in a dream world, sometimes.

She mimicked Hunter's expression when he tasted the suspicious Bertie Botts bean, and listened to him talk about his friends. Aoife, his could-be-but-not, star-crossed lover. Blake, the cool and apparently library-loving guy. Lyra the ignored sister. And Ariel...the one Agnes suspected was much more than Hunter told her. She wanted to meet them, all the wonderful Gryffindors he talked about. Maybe she could be friends with them too, unless Hunter had told them about the train. She was sure nobody wanted to hang out with a girl who'd kicked their friend in vulnerable places.

She raised her eyebrow again when Hunter called this Evan character a "git". Agnes had no clue what that word even meant. Tilting her head slightly to the side, she asked, "What's a git?" She didn't understand all these weird-sounding British words and phrases. "Yes. He did. Or, I don't know. Honestly." That day when she'd gotten back to her dormitory, she'd realized she had given herself a cat tail and maybe this Evan "git" had a cat fetish or something. "I'm guessing there's something there, between you and Evan Williams?" There had to be, because, why else would he call him an ass? Well, as far as throwing him off the Astronomy Tower, Agnes knew that she wouldn't be the one to do that.

When Hunter glared at her, Agnes brought her hands up in defense. "I was just curious..." Gosh, this guy was so on the defensive side. She was about to say that she knew how to make that potion, because Beauxbatons had much more credited professors, but when Hunter threatened to fail them in Charms, Agnes decided he wasn't worthy of her help. "I speak and you fail me. Fair enough." She obviously wouldn't say anything anyway, she didn't have that many people to tell things to. A small bit of nostalgia passed through her when she remembered what she'd left behind in Paris.

Another thing Agnes had been right about Hunter, he had a contagious smile. It was a small one, but contagious enough to make her smile back. For some strange reason, Agnes felt like something important had been shared with that tiny smile. But she was crazy enough already, and it was way too late so she was probably imagining it. "I know. But it's in those moments, when they aren't aware that they have to act a certain way, that you capture their real beauty." That was a line straight from Chasen's lips. As much as she hated to admit, he was the one who got her into photography in the first place. Muggles were often into art, and he wasn't an exception.

Agnes was about to say that he didn't have to say anything, but it seemed he decided to share something with her anyway. "I know about the Chasers, though we didn't have teams in Beauxbatons." Agnes shrugged, she wanted to try out for the time simply because it was a way to meet others in her house, but she was a decent flyer. Not anything special, but good enough. She'd been looking at the Keeper and Chaser positions, but the Beater one would be cool too. She just didn't remember which ones were already filled. Agnes didn't say anything his "rubbish" skills in the other areas of magic, because she figured that was just another hard subject. She wasn't good at Divination, nor was she good at Herbology and History of Magic. In a way, she kind of understood Hunter's "rubbishness" if that was even a word.

She was taken back for a second when he asked what her story was. He just blurted it out like it was nothing serious, like it was a normal question to ask a girl who you hurt and who had hurt you back. What was her story anyway? The short version that she could tell someone like Hunter...Hmm. "I did, we don't have Houses like Hogwarts does, though. And, well, I suppose...." Hlw does one summarize their life? "I was born in Paris, so I'm really interested in the arts. We moved because my father became sick, and no one in France could figure out what it was so he's been in the Mungos hospital for two months now. Ansel, he's my older brother. And I have a dog and a cat. I'm not a spoiled brat, as many people tend to think." she lowered her voice on that last phrase, because people, even at Beauxbatons, used to constantly tell her she was spoiled and rotten, simply because she her parents were wealthy. It was a good think they didn't know about Ansel's dark times, otherwise they would have probably labeled her a Death Eater too, and gosh, it was even better than nobody at school knew about Chasen!

Shaking her head slightly, she turned to look at Hunter and realized she still had the Bertie Bott's beans in her hand, she popped them in her mouth all at once. Big mistake. It was an explosion of good and bad flavors, and the most powerful one was lemon. Sour lemon. Uggghhhh. Agnes coughed a few times, but didn't spit a single bean out. The flavors were too strong when put all together. She could distinguish a marshmallow one, and a lettuce one, and there seemed to be a paper flavored one too. There was sweetness in some of the others, but she wasn't quite sure what flavor they were. After chewing them for a bit, she asked Hunter the same question. "What's your story, Hunter VanDerberg?"

"Hey, laugh all you want, but you haven't met her," Hunter said, leaning back on the arm of the couch and kicking his feet up onto the cushions. "Spend an hour with her, and you'll understand. I'd bet any bloke in this school a hundred galleons that they couldn't get her to agree to a date - and I'd still give them half that if they got away uninjured." He couldn't help but remember watching Aoife slap Phin last term when he'd tried to kiss her. That had been interesting. "She isn't exactly a normal teenager - actually, she would've skipped being a teenager completely if it were up to her." As Hunter poured a few more beans into his hand, he wondered why he was even still talking about Aoife. Or why he was even talking to Agnes at all. They weren't friends. But somehow, the simple conversation was helping to lighten Hunter's mind. Easy getting-to-know-you shit - mindless and distracting.

"Wait, what?" Hunter asked incredulously, sitting up some so that he could stare at Agnes like she'd grown two heads properly. "You don't know what a git is? Are you serious?" Hunter had never even considered the possibility that there was anyone in the world that didn't know that word. After staring at her for another minute, Hunter sighed and delved into an explanation. "It means arrogant jerk," he told her. "And Evan is the biggest one."

Was there something between him and Evan? "We just don't get along is all - never have. Okay, picture this - " Without really meaning to, Hunter sat up further, so that he could talk more animatedly. "I'm a first year, right? And the first big snow hits, and all my eleven-year-old self wants to do is have a snowball fight. So I start one, and it's great - and then King of Gits, Evan Williams, comes along and casts some supercharged lumos at the snow so that it blinds us! Literally, Aoife was completely blind for hours." It was almost strange, thinking back to first year. Things had been so different then. Happy and easy - but things had changed. The world had changed - and so had Hunter. "Anyway, he's a waste of space, don't bother with him."

Hunter gave Agnes a look when she said she was only curious. She clearly didn't understand the problem with people knowing. "I've been stealing ingredients from Henley's store cupboard t make this," he told her in a low voice, as if somebody else might hear if he said it any louder, even though they were the only ones there. She already knew about the potion, so what difference did it make if she knew about how he acquired the ingredients? Besides, Hunter was a bit proud of himself for being able to stay under the radar for so long. "I've been trying to get it right since third year - taught myself, but the damn thing is so needy. I have to tend to it around the clock, and every time I miss a step and have to trash the whole thing."

He unconsciously leaned forward to check the potion, which would need more ingredients when it reached a boil, but relaxed back again when he saw that the liquid was still. Hunter raised an eyebrow when Agnes continued to talk about photography. Her words were soft, and he found that he was listening intently without really meaning to - watching the way her expression relaxed, illuminated only by the fire, as she spoke. It was clear that she felt at ease with the subject. Hunter wasn't deep - not really. But he could appreciate people who were - silently, of course. Out loud, he had to remain his sarcastic, aloof self. "So if somebody took a picture of the moment that you ended my ability to have children, what would that capture?" he asked jokingly.

Agnes seemed unsure of how to respond to his question at first, but as she spoke her voice seemed to adapt a casual, easygoing tone. Again, Hunter listened, already growing slightly accustomed to the strange way that she pronounced her words. He frowned as she brought up her father. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said, his voice sincere. Instantly, his thoughts went to Ariel, who had been in a similar situation. Her father had also been hospitalized in St. Mungos - and now he was gone. Most people would say something along the lines of I'm sure he'll be fine, but not Hunter - he knew better. Knew that there was no way to ensure that anyone would ever be fine. So instead, he fell quiet and waited for her to continue.

Hunter snorted in amusement at her last words. "I thought you were a bitch, not a spoiled brat," he told her sarcastically. "And don't worry, we have enough of those running around here as it is - my girlfriend probably being the worst of them all." If Seren wasn't the definition of a spoiled brat, Hunter wasn't sure who was. He felt a slight pang of guilt as he thought of Seren, because things hadn't been right between them lately and he knew that it was his fault. "I don't think that anyone here will peg you as one of them, to be honest. If anything, you'll just be the bitchy French girl that assaults people when she gets angry." Was that better than spoiled brat? Hunter wasn't sure, but it probably was because it meant that people would at least leave you alone.

His story. Instantly, Hunter felt his walls slam up, not wanting to answer her question - not wanting to even try. Because telling his story was impossible without mentioning his brother - it was impossible without letting Agnes into a place that she wasn't welcome. And it was with a tense, cautious voice that he continued. "I'm muggleborn," he started, feeling that it was a simple enough place to begin. "My family runs a farm in Netherlands. I was homeschooled my whole life until I came to Hogwarts. I'm a fifth year, but I'll be sixteen in October, and I work at Zonkos in Hogsmeade. My sisters, Lyra and Lyn, are twins - Gryffindor and Hufflepuff - and they're a year younger..." And my brother Jack is dead.

Hunter sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which he hadn't bothered to cut since before Diagon Alley, as some of his anxiety came back to him. Of course there was more to his life - so much more. But nothing that he could tell Agnes. Nothing that he could even think without the feeling of loss suffocating him. Taking a breath, Hunter made to stand. He needed a moment, and a few butterbeers couldn't hurt, anyway. "I'll be right back," he told Agnes, and took off up the stairs. When he returned he had two bottles in his hands. He pushed one into Agnes' grasp and uncapped his own, taking a swig. "Don't tell me there's no butterbeer in France?" he said, trying and failing to recover his lighter, joking voice from before.

“I wasn’t laughing yet.” Agnes let out a small giggle. “Well, if it narrows it down for you, I won’t try to ask her out.” She said as she gave him half a smile, the lips on the right side of her face curling up only slightly, not a full smirk anyway. “She sounds lovely, I hope I meet her soon.” She was joking, of course. Agnes didn’t really feel like having a chair thrown at her for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong person. In fact, the less trouble she had with other girls the better. Kicking guys for being jerks was fine, they often didn’t fight back, and even then, they guys were far easier than the girls. Girls were vicious, evil in extreme levels. In a way, Agnes could be that way too, she just knew that if Hunter had asked her out, she would just ignore him and walk away. Chair throwing was not on her list of hobbies.

Apparently, “git” was a very common word and Agnes had been living under a rock for her whole life. Hunter stared at her like she was from another planet, from a different species. “I mean, I’ve never heard anyone use that word…” Agnes explained, defending her ignorance when it came to British phrases. An arrogant jerk. Hmm. Agnes was sure Evan Williams was a sexist pervert, but was that the same as being an arrogant jerk? She couldn’t quite judge him on that, since she obviously didn’t know anything else aside from his weird cat fetish. Agnes just nodded, because she could neither defend Evan Williams or fuel Hunter’s opinion of him.

Listening to every word Hunter said, Agnes frowned a little bit. “So, you don’t like him because he won the snow fight?” She couldn’t understand that. “I mean, you’re most definitely not a first year anymore. I think you should let it go.” She probably shouldn’t have said that either, but holding a grudge on Evan Williams for a few days was different than to hold one for years. She thought about what he said, about Williams being a waste of space, and as much as she wanted to Agnes couldn’t agree with that statement. “Honestly, I don’t think he’s a waste of space.” Agnes mumbled, not sure she wanted Hunter to hear that statement. Sure, Evan was a sexist jerk, but he wasn’t a complete waste of space. He was rather attractive, really, and Agnes wouldn’t have minded looking at him if she had met him under different circumstances. “And I wasn’t planning on bothering with him.”

Stealing, ah. “Henley is the potions, professor and our Head of House, is she not?” Agnes asked, trying to put faces with names and titles. Agnes debated offering her help, but...after a few seconds of weighing the pros and cons of doing so, she pushed the thought of kindness aside. “That’s quite impressive, that you’ve managed to steal since your Third year.” Agnes said somewhat sarcastically. She’d never stolen anything, so she couldn’t relate to that very much. “The potions looks pretty good, too.” She added, because Hunter already had a wrong impression of her, and he didn’t need more reasons to hate her. Not that Agnes actually cared right now.

“They would capture my panic and your animalistic behavior.” Agnes said matter-of-factly. “Seriously, what was so wrong with me just sitting there?” She had been wondering this since Hunter literally dragged her out of the compartment. “If anything, you started being a git to me.” There, she had officially used the word for ‘arrogant jerk’. She was not going to let him think she was just violent towards people in general, but she wanted to know what was so wrong with her. “I sat with you because I needed someone who didn’t look like they wanted to be friendly. Someone who wasn’t going to ask for my name and why they hadn’t seen me around.” She admitted, her eyes refusing to meet his. France was her home, and having to tell others that she missed the luxurious city was not something she wanted to talk about on her first day at a new school. "Not because I wanted to piss you off."

She gave him a small smile when he tried to be compassionate, but it didn’t help her father’s situation at all. “I’m sorry to hear it, too.” She said, and she wasn’t sure if she was talking about Hunter’s brother, or her own father. She was sorry that Hunter had lost someone, but she wasn’t sure how to express it since she didn’t even know the dead person. Agnes decided she meant it for both of them, simply because she liked Hunter at the moment. Her thoughtful gaze disappeared and she paid attention to Hunter again. “You have a girlfriend? Did she try to injure you, too?” She smiled, it seemed like girls were just out to hurt him. “And, I can be a bitch, in case you didn’t know already.” She thought about that for a second, and in an instant, she decided that even Evan Williams deserved an apology. “I think...regardless of how much of a git Evan Williams is, I’m going to apologize to him sometime before he gets thrown off the Astronomy Tower.” she said rather seriously, but her lips curled into another smile before she laughed out loud. “Seriously, do people really hate him that much? Or is it just you?”

She wasn’t going to lie, she liked hearing people talk about themselves. They showed so much, and they didn’t even know it. Hunter had completely left out his brother, but Agnes wasn’t going to question that. He had his rights. Confused, Agnes asked Hunter where he was going, but it seemed he didn’t hear as he disappeared into the Dormitories. For a few moments, Agnes thought about messing with his potion, just to piss him off a little bit, but then remembered he wasn’t as bad as she first thought he was and decided against hurting him. Again. He came back with two bottles of some yellow liquid and immediately handed one to her. Agnes took it, because she was curious as to what this was. “Butterbeer? That sounds disgusting.” She grimaced, but popped the bottle open and tried it anyway. It was warm and soft, like a sweet buttery river flowing through her. “I take that back. What is this gloriousness?” She asked, taking another sip and waiting for Hunter to sass her or something.

"Wrong," Hunter said immediately, giving Agnes an exasperated look as though she was missing a very obvious point. "I don't like him because he's an annoying, cheating, know-it-all. The snowball fight is just an example of what a pathetic loser he is." Because Evan was as much the definition of a pathetic loser as Seren was the definition of a spoiled brat. "I mean, what kind of third year has to blind a bunch of first years just so he can win a snowball fight? And he hasn't changed - that's just who he is." He had to strain his ears to hear the next words that came out of her mouth, between her mumbling and her accent. When he finally registered them, he just shrugged in response. "You don't know him," Hunter said simply. He wasn't about to waste his time arguing with her about something as useless as Evan.

"Yeah, that's her. She's actually pretty cool, as far as the more serious professors go - but that could just be because I'm good at her class. For a moment, Hunter almost wondered if he'd made the wrong decision by telling her about the ingredients he'd been taking from Henley. Almost. But in reality, what did it matter? If she did give him away, what would even happen? He'd get in trouble? Lose points? Get detention? Who gave a shit. Definitely not Hunter, who had far more on his mind than the fullness of Gryffindor's hourglass. So, not caring enough to worry about it, he just shrugged in response to her comment. "I guess you could say I have a knack for it," he told her with a small smirk, thinking about how easily he'd been swiping bottles of firewhiskey from the three broomsticks as well. He pursed his lips as she complimented his felix potion, not bothering to say thank you. "It's got another week," he told her. "But the color's right, and I think it's on track."

Hunter snorted in dry amusement - "Animalistic, huh?" - but felt his humor leave him as soon as she continued, his previously neutral face falling into a slight glare. Honestly, couldn't this girl drop that? "Well, I'm sorry that I couldn't help you," he snapped. "You needed to sit with someone who wouldn't bother you," he repeated evenly. "But I needed to be alone." It was as simple as that. Nothing else to it. He had needed to be alone, and Agnes had intruded on his solitude. After another moment of irritation, he sighed, his voice taking on a tired, but nonconfrontational, tone. "Look, Agnes, the truth is that if you'd met me a week earlier, you would've seen a completely different person. I remember sitting on the train home last term with my friends, literally thinking that my life couldn't get any better." Hunter paused, thinking for a moment before continuing in a low, matter of fact voice. "But that isn't me now. Not anymore."

He wasn't sure why he was telling her that - he wasn't even sure what his point was. He just knew that if he were to have met Agnes before, it would have been different. Agnes didn't understand - she couldn't see the severity of the change that had taken place in Hunter. As far as she knew, he was always this brooding, angry, violent person. And of course, there had always been that side of him, but never before had it ever taken over so completely, until there was nothing else left. Agnes couldn't understand that he used to be happy, attention-seeking, always surrounded by friends. She couldn't understand how much pain it took to force that part of himself away so strongly that he wondered if it would ever return.

Thankfully, the conversation soon moved on, and they were talking about simpler subjects once again. Like Hunter's girlfriend - who wasn't really such a simple subject at all. But she was simple enough to talk about, so Hunter responded easily. "Seren," he informed Agnes. "She's in Ravenclaw. I've been with her since the start of last term - almost a year, now." Hunter left out the details about their current issues, because it was hardly Agnes' business to know. "She's scarily perfect - rich, smart, attractive. But she's a tiny bit self-righteous, if that makes sense." Clearly, tiny bit was actually a code word for obnoxiously. And no, she's never injured anything aside from my pride," Hunter finished, a half-grin forming on his lips.

Of course she was going to apologize to him. How stupid could you be? But, not giving a shit enough to care, Hunter just shrugged. "Suit yourself, then" he said. "Don't say I didn't warn you." Hunter looked over at her when she questioned him again. "Honestly, how many times are you going to bring him up?" Hunter asked. "I mean, I might as well just hold an Evan Williams seminar and invite the rest of the school, so we can get an accurate reading of how everyone feels about him." Evan wasn't only a waste of space, talking about him was a waste of breath. "It isn't just me. Most people can't stand him."

"You mean you really don't have butterbeer there?" Hunter asked, eyes wide. "God, remind me to never visit France without packing a supply for myself." Honestly, who didn't have butterbeer? "It isn't disgusting, it's the best thing that you'll ever drink, just try it," Hunter told her, taking another long swig of his until half of the bottle was empty. Naturally, the second Agnes took a sip, her opinion changed. "Told you," Hunter said. "If you get it from the pub, during winter, they serve it warm. It's brilliant. But it tastes fine just like that, too." No butterbeer. No gits. Fuck France. What did they drink? What word did they use to imply a pompous loser?! Hunter vowed silently to never visit france for that reason.

"What are you doing up, anyway?" Hunter asked her curiously, a slight yawn escaping his mouth. "It's nearly one, you know. And I think that we have eight o'clock potions in the morning." It hardly mattered to Hunter. He could just be late, or skip class altogether. But from what he'd gathered, Agnes actually cared about school to an extent. Oh, speaking of school. "Any ideas for our charms project, by the way? I guess we haven't really talked about it before." Because before now, they were enemies. And now they were - what? Acquaintances? Yes. Acquaintances and Charm's partners. That sounded about right.

"Okay, okay." Agnes said, trying to get Hunter to shut up. There was a lot of hatred in him, Agnes thought. "I won't bring him up again, swear." Though, chances were that she would bring him up again. Mostly because she liked to piss Hunter off a little bit, and Evan Williams was certainly a great way to do so.
When their conversation turned from Evan to Henley and Hunter's knack for stealing, agnes felt more comfortable. "I've never stolen anything, and I don't think I could. So, you being able to do it for so long is pretty impressive to me." Agnes confessed, and she wondered why he had even told her that to begin with. He shouldn't trust her enough, she could go and confess this to Henley, get him in trouble if she wanted. Truth was, however, Agnes wasn't going to do it.

"Yeah, you looked a bit like the Hulk." Agnes told him, being completely serious. He had actually scared her in the train, and that was another reason why she hadn't wanted to work with Hunter in Charms class. Agnes could see the way Hunter's face changed immediately, and she knew that he still didn't like her. Feeling uncomfortable again, Agnes shrugged. "I never said I needed help." Agnes decided to never try and make things right, because so far it hadn't worked. Looking away and avoiding Hunger's gaze, she wasn't going to pressure him intonunderstanding that she hadn't meant to hurt him in any way. He could think whatever the hell he wanted, because she could already see how closed-minded he was.

"I really don't care." she blurted out. She was starting to get confused as to what Hunter was even trying to tell her. "You're what you are now, it really means nothing to me." She pushed the comforter aside, revealing her yellow plaid pajamas and thought about how much she really wanted to wear her onesie. Those things were the best invention ever. "The past is the past, right?" She told him, looking at him and trying to let him know that she was tired of being confused and feeling uncomfortable and like she was intruding in his life, which she hadn't wanted to do in the first place. But how could someone like him understand that? It was painful, in a way, to see him and think of all that he claimed to have been and see the contrast in what Agnes knew he was now.

Her mood lightened up when Hunter talked about his girlfriend, Seren. Agnes had d never heard that name, therefore she liked it. Without realizing what she was saying, she blurted out, "She must be very attractive. All the Ravenclaws I've crossed paths with are." She hadn't really crossed paths with any of them, but just looking at the Ravenclaw table made her feel somewhat jealous of how beautiful everyone in that House was. Slytherin was good looking, too, but in a different way. The Slytherins looked like glittering statues, fair and regal. And the Hufflepuffs looked beautiful in a different way, a way that was defined by the kindness in their eyes and their friendly smiles. Gryffindor was okay, there some pretty good-looking people, but compared to them, Agnes didn't even match up to Hunter. And Ravenclaw, gosh. Ravenclaw was carved out of a piece of heaven, Agnes was sure. Agnes returned Hunter's half smile, and decided she would like to meet Seren sometime. Preferably away from Hunter.

"You don't have to warn me of anything." she said, offended that Hunter would even try to act like he knew what Agnes could and couldn't handle. "I can handle Evan Williams, regardless of how big of a jerk he possibly is." Nobody could tell her she wasn't strong enough to stand up to anyone. Hunter was so narrow-minded! Agnes gasped, she had only brough Evan up TWICE. If that bothered Hunter, then he had serious issues he needed to work out. She decided to let it drop, figure out everything on her own, because Hunter was as uncivilized as she had thought him to be. Seriously, if Agnes wanted to go up to Evan Williams and kick him in the balls again, she could. And if he wanted to slap her, well...fair enough.

Enjoying her butterbeer, Agnes said, "I have my owm demons, Hunter. You're not the only." Obviously, Hunter had no clue what they were, nor was Agnes going to tell him. He didn't know about Chasen, about her stupidity, about Ansel's recklesness and the pain he caused to their parents, about the little bit of life in her father. Hunter had lost someone, but he acted like he was the only dealing with painful situations. She had a few ideas for the Charms project, so she figured it was a good time to tell him. She'd be going to bed after that, because she no longer felt comfortable talking to Hunter in the middle of the night. Especially since she had class in the morning. "I thought about creating a spell that lets you match your voice to that of someone else's. Or maybe one that let's you bring your memories to life, instead of using a pensive. Like, you could dig in your brain and pick out a memory, and relieve it whenever you wanted, anywhere." But that was probably too hard for them to do. "I also thought about creating one that can conjure up food whenever, but I think that's more transfiguration than charms."