— BUILT ON HER OWN WRECKAGE.

“What the Hell is going on in the world?” Charity sighed, tossing the Daily Prophet to one side. “How am I going to look these students in the eye?”

“We’re not MEDUSA we won’t turn you to stone if you look us in the eyes,” Dorcas commented, rolling her eyes at Charity’s comments. The world had always been horrible to one extent or the other, she could never understand people being shocked by it. “The world’s an ugly place, that’s for certain.”

Bellatrix was fed up with all the talk about the attack, it was pretty much the only conversation topic anywhere in the school. Hearing yet another person speak about it, the Slytherin turned round, raising her eyebrow. “Yes, i know how horrible this stuff was but can’t we talk about something else for a change?”

Looking between the first year who’d been holding onto Dorcas’ arm as she cried about her family and Bellatrix, Dorcas couldn’t help but feel angry. “How about this, how about you attempt to have some human decency and a heart -- just for about two minutes -- and let this first year express that she’s bloody grieving, you FUCKING HAG,” Dorcas shot back, her voice dangerously low, knowing that raising her voice would only make the situation worse for the child she was trying to comfort.

Persephone was sat down on a bench near the lake, wanting to make the most of the weather. She didn’t particularly want to do any homework for once, needing to think about what had happened recently. Sighing, she stood up and as she did, she saw someone much closer to her than she expected. “Shit, I didn’t see you out here.”

“Guess if I get into the academy I’ll do good at the camouflage section, then,” Dorcas commented, not looking in Persephone’s direction as she stared at the water, letting it calm her. Her temper was flaring up, Merlin knew it happened during stressful times, but the last thing ANYONE needed was for her to lose her head. “Doing coursework, Avery?”

Hestia hadn’t slept. She’d sat up and stared at the corner of her bedpost, trying not to burn from the inside out. She felt like she had rocks in her stomach, weighing her down against the tides that were smacking her in the face, holding her down just enough that she was beginning to drown. Her brother - her Heracles - had deserved better. She hadn’t - she hadn’t been able to say goodbye, she hadn’t been able to tell him she loved him, that she was grateful for all the years she got with him. She hadn’t even been able to answer her mothers owls, her mothers owls about the damned FUNERAL, about the arrangements for the wake and going home and burying him. There was a ringing in her ears that seemed as if it’d never go away, and she didn’t even notice sliding onto the wrong table. 

Hestia didn’t bother picking her gaze up, sliding over the plate of sausages, as if on auto-pilot. Her fork was lifted to her mouth, but her stomach was twisted, and she couldn’t bring herself to swallow a single bite. Her fists are clenched around the metal, slowly loosening as Dorcas talks. Her voice is weak by the time she responds, long past the point of self-consciousness. “It’s always good to have a snack on hand.” 

In truth, looking at Hestia made Dorcas feel like a bad person. Here she was, so openly hurt, so openly angry, so openly emotive -- rightfully so -- where Dorcas was just cold. Truthfully, she didn’t care that her mother was dead, she didn’t care that her mother, who’d abandoned her, who’d been horrible to her for almost half of her life, was dead. There was a certain PEACE she felt, knowing that her and her mother’s story was finished, their paths would never intersect, there’d be not a shadow of a doubt what had happened between her and her mother. Her mother left, now she was dead, it’d been a long time coming if you asked Dorcas. Yet, she was lumped in with a group of people, people left behind in the wake of grief, people suffering, people like Hestia. Dorcas didn’t deserve any of the pity or kindness she was given, but for some reason she didn’t turn it down, she just let it be. Which took away from people like Hestia who actually needed the love, the kindness. 

“It is, innit? I think I’d actually get one of those charmed bags, the ones that are like Mary Poppins bag, really. I’m sure she was a witch thinking about it now, but that’s not important. I just love food,” Dorcas said earnestly, taking a few from the plate, going to work on them immediately. “At my dad’s funeral, they had shit food. I remember that THE MOST.” Maybe, if Dorcas was to offer any kindness it would be normalizing talk of death, not making it so taboo and heavy, making it an every day thing -- because it was. Frankly, it was annoying, how the people around her tip toed around the grieving, acting as if it wasn’t strong of them to still be alive as well. “But I don’t think anyone really gave a shit. No one talks about funerals after they’re done, so it doesn’t really matter what you do, does it? I’m not doing anything for my mum, I’m going to Alice’s dad’s though.”

Alice was clinging to her routine as if it was the ONLY thing keeping her afloat. It was, in all honesty — that and her determination not to crack when her siblings needed her. She could not break, could not give in to the wish to be fragile. There was too much to do, too much resting on her shoulders. She was the oldest. She was the one her siblings looked to, the one who had to be a beacon of strength. NO ONE was asking her to, but it was the only thing she knew how to do. Grieving, crying, raging? Those things didn’t seem like options to Alice. Not yet.

She sought out Dorcas a lot, sat at the Ravenclaw table with her, eating breakfast in silence, eyes falling on Estelle every now and then ( her sister was prone to tears, and she wanted to be near in case they started falling ). They didn’t have to talk, she and Dorcas. They could just eat, or pretend to at least, and know that there was more than what they were doing. “Oh, yeah, of course,” she said, handing the other the sausages. Her own appetite seemed to have vanished, and she’d been working on her banana for fifteen minutes now. “I might copy you and do the same — Charms always makes me hungry.”

While it could’ve been easy to give into curiosity, Dorcas at least knew better than that. Asking about Alice’s family, how they were, how her siblings were, was tiring and most of all not conversation Dorcas knew was anyone wanted to have after a death --  Alice was the prime example of this. Considering Alice’s banana muffin was barely eaten, she at least knew they handled grief differently. Though Dorcas ALWAYS had a voracious appetite, it only increased during times of stress and grief. Taking four sausages, she inhaled two, taking a break, drinking some water. 

“I think because it’s such an enjoyable subject, really, I have a theory that magic people ACTUALLY enjoy takes extra magic and energy from you therefore making your appetite increase. Rowena knows I don’t feel hungry after Potions, even when I’ve felt like I’ve put all my work and magic into it.”

“Could you please pass me the sausage? I didn’t take enough.” Stuffing the rest of her toast in her mouth, she turned the next page of the Prophet, finishing it and reaching for a croissant. “I think I’m going need to stuff some croissants in a napkin and take them to classes, they’re really FANTASTIC.”

“There’s a fine line between sexual tension and annoyance, you annoy me daily, doesn’t mean I don’t want to make out with you,” Dolohov explained before he shrugged. “Who do you think I am?” The boy asked, a little offended by her remark. She didn’t think very highly of him if she thought he’d do such thing. His face coming dangerously close to hers, purposely choosing to invade her private space. It seemed like he was going to lock their lips but he didn’t instead he leaned in her ear. “As if I need anything besides my good looks and charming ways to get to feel your lips on mine at the end of the night,” He whispered in the Gryffindor’s ear, a smirk rolling up his lips as he placed his hands on her waist, stepping a little closer to her. “One kiss and I’ll let you win one duelling match, I mean, you kinda need it.” The Slytherin teased.

With the hand on her waist, the drink she had in one hand, Dorcas was almost shocked by the caudacity he had to assume she’d make out with him. It wasn’t what he did, and he knew it, which was why she had to laugh at how forward he was being -- even if it was out of anxiety at their closeness. Not anticipation, anxiety.  “I think you’re a tosser, Dolohov, and I don’t think you’ll ever have the divine honor to kiss me either,” the shot of firewhiskey he had given her was poured in his direction, Dorcas graciously aimed only for his shoes and not his robes.“But maybe I’d kiss you if you’d let me embarrass you as well as win. I don’t NEED the win, but, how about this -- you let me whole heartedly embarrass you during practice F I R S T and maybe you’ll get a kiss. Just so you can stop bothering me so much and move on to the next bird.”

“ you deserve people being friendly with you, dorcas, “ edgar’s words were absolutely serious, even if he didn’t bother with all the work it would take to remove the smile from his face. no, all the meaning in them would have to be conveyed in tone alone: “ even if you save your friendly for not-with-them! you’re great, and it’s totally possible. I’m friendly with people who can’t risk their allotted friendliness on me over someone else. “ he paused for a moment, and shrugged as he mulled over dorcas’ question — done, now, with his dissertation on friendliness. “ you should have some water, “ edgar said in the interim. “ even if you’re not drinking it to avoid a hangover, it can’t hurt a headache? and, I don’t think you should stress about the special brownies. because, if you do eat one, you could just — oh, sorry, this is gross — get a friend to punch you in the stomach or something, get it right back out. right? that should work. “ he grins at dorcas, shrugging his shoulders up again. “ but I’ll watch and make sure you don’t eat one in the first place, yeah? “

“I think I follow, but, thank you. Maybe I’ll follow your advice.” The thing about Edgar was, that he was just so so good &  it came easily to him. Dorcas was always impressed beyond belief with the kind of person Edgar was, with what he believed, with how he treated others. So, when he told her she deserved something good, she believed him. She started to laugh when he finally revealed the solution he’d laid out, she hadn’t expected something so violent though she knew coming from Edgar he really thought it was the best course of action. “Not sure about that, I will say, I’d rather suffer a bad trip than get one of my mates to PUNCH ME in the gut. Good looking out though, I’ll get some water. Come with me, just in case I need you to... punch me in the gut or something.” Dorcas started to walk over to where she knew there to be water, checking behind her to see if Edgar was moving with her. 

“Oh come on, it’s a party, come and dance with me!” Torin encouraged, reaching a hand out to touch their arm softly and getting closer. “Pretty please?” He asked, smiling at them. “It’s so boring with no one to dance with.” It was clear that he was drunk, he didn’t usually ask others to dance, he usually did his own thing at parties.

“OH NO, most definitely not, I already gave Toni a dance, and I’m not repeating that mistake,” besides, she wasn’t in the mood to deal with drunk people on a dance floor more than she had to. “But how about this, I can watch you dance and rate your dancing? That’s about as close to dancing as you’ll get from me.”