#lsstarter

POINTSETT ARKANSAS. MAY 14, 2018.

it is the monday after graduation, which took place on saturday. summer vacation has just begun for the 12 and there’s a mix of emotions. the days would generally be filled with sunshine and parties and celebrating their newfound freedom, but of course, something is missing. beth’s absence hangs in the air as family members approach their teens with caution and the teens of pointsett? well, some of them wallow in their misery. others choose to find escapes, ways to forget. some of them would rather avoid the subject entirely. but there’s no denying it -- something is different.

ew. she thought, images of lesions on lung tissue coming to mind.

she tore off the plastic wrapping gently before opening the pack, examining the two perfect rows of cigarettes and in a way, they were sort of cute. all lined up like that. twenty of them. twenty? was she really going to smoke twenty cigarettes? probably not. she pulled one out and held it to her lips before realizing that a) you couldn’t smoke without a lighter and b) she didn’t own one of those. and asking for cigarettes in the gas station had left her red-faced enough, she wasn’t about to march in there and ask for a lighter. she stuffed the cigarette back into the pack and felt her lungs thank her. 

just as she was stuffing the box back into her jacket pocket, she locked eyes with a familiar face. she felt her cheeks redden again, hoping they hadn’t witnessed her entire internal monologue. 

Every time that Regulus thought things couldn’t get any worse, they found a way to surprise him. He really had to stop getting comfortable with whatever the current level of discomfort was, because it was sure to get worse. Now he couldn’t even take his broom out to the pitch to get away from it all for an hour without being harassed. The worst part about it this time was that he had known. He’d known when the plan had been made what it was going to mean for the Slytherins left behind, and there was nothing he could do about it. This was his test. He had to continue to feed information to the outside if he wanted any hope of taking the Mark himself. It didn’t mean it made it any easier. The rest of them had gotten out, and he was left to take the brunt of it.

He wasn’t quite sure what his reputation was before this. He’d like to have thunk that he was regarded as being smart, and a great seeker. He’d been unapproachable before - pureblood royalty - and now? Well now he was met with shoulders and elbows in the hallways when he tried to make it to and from class. He refused to walk with his head down, and that had definitely been seen as some kind of threat.  Did nobody in this building actually have a sense of logic left in them? It was two weeks after the attack on the post office that he’d finally snapped at someone that had called him a Death Eater, and for the first time in his life he’d grabbed the other sixth year by his robes and shoved him up against a wall. “Do you really think that if I had anything to do with that I would still be here? Do you think I’m so daft as to have stayed behind when everybody else left?” The Hufflepuff had moved on with his day. Regulus had resolved not to put himself in that situation again.

It seemed that most of the house was keeping to their quarters outside of class. The group of fourth years that would have studied in the library had withdrawn a stack of books and claimed a corner of the common room, and the girls in his own year - those that had stayed - had taken up camp by one of the windows, watching the sea-life swim past rather than walking the grounds. Regulus, who had joked for years with his roommates that he was going to petition for a private room, had finally gotten his wish, and spent almost all of his time alone. The intelligence he was meant to collect wouldn’t be gathered from students - they were hardly worth his time. If he wanted to truly make an impression it was the staff that he needed to eavesdrop on. His work wouldn’t be accomplished during class, or in the halls in between.

His entire schedule had changed, and while he hadn’t appreciated it, it was simply what needed to be done. He no longer ate or slept when other students did. He was more determined than ever to avoid them as much as possible. He had work to do - he couldn’t spend his days convincing people of his innocence, or alternately watching them all engage in things he would never have. No, he needed to spend every spare minute he could fulfilling the Dark Lord’s wishes, and that meant late nights under false pretenses. It meant abusing the small amount of freedom that his Prefect badge provided him when he was caught out of bed at night, claiming he’d been assigned rounds. He didn’t particularly care if any of the professors checked his schedule with Potter or Evans. He didn’t really care for either of them anyways, and who even knew what they were thinking when they decided that he should be Head Boy? Did their track records at the school count for nothing?

Clearly they didn’t. Track records here clearly meant nothing. It didn’t seem as if anybody was going to do anything to counter the abuse that Slytherins seemed to be facing, and the favouritism frankly, wasn’t surprising. It was pathetic really. He could see it himself in the mirror. It was in the dark circles sinking under his eyes and the slight pallor creeping into his usually tanned skin. It was the way his shoulder sunk when nobody was looking, and the way his stomach growled and cried at him for more food than he was able to keep down. It was the way that his focus had shifted, no longer stealing glances at a relationship he would never be able to have for himself, and instead keeping his head down, his ears open.

It was a windy September morning, the air crisp and the summer green grass still fresh with new dew. James had woken up early and, having nothing much to do, headed out to fly a little and appreciate a bit of quiet time. At this hour of the morning, the grounds were generally deserted, students kept away from a mixture of sleep and fear of getting in trouble. James didn’t think it was actually forbidden to head outside before class, but then again his track record with the rule book wasn’t perfect.

He turned his head to let the fresh grass tickle his face, listening to the sound of the lake lapping at the shore. James wasn’t a particularly peaceful person by any account, but for some reason he’d lingered after putting his broom down.

The start of term had been as pleasant as he could’ve hoped it to be. James was Quidditch Captain and Head Boy, the Marauders had pulled off a fantastic Sorting Day prank, classes hadn’t gotten to any major assignments yet, and he’d actually managed to have a halfway lengthy conversation with Lily Evans.

And yet James was restless.

Laying here, where all the world was still, James found himself wondering how much of this would matter. James had never been a particularly cynical person, or either a particularly serious one, so this was a rather odd thought. But James had been thinking - about being Head Boy, about whether he would be any good or if he even had a chance - and he was struck, suddenly, by a query: if he didn’t deserve to be head boy, and had gotten it only because he was popular, well-liked, even pureblood maybe, then did he deserve any of the things he had? What had James certifiably won on his own, and not because he was born lucky?

He knew, separately, that he was good at some things, even excellent, good enough to deserve praise on its own, and yet the doubt persisted. Why didn’t Quidditch captaincy go to Sirius, who’d been doing it for as long as he has?

She was the kind of person that made lists. Made them, checked them off, revised them. So although term had only begun a few days ago, Mary had her organizer at the ready. It was there that she recorded her homework, noted errands, prioritized activities, calculated finances. Whatever was needed. Many would laugh at her for it. They made the point that life did not go according to plan, no matter how well Mary orchestrated hers. Especially in their world as it stood currently -- on an uneven foundation, changing. However, she would counter that this was all the more reason to be equipped, or as equppied as possible.

She was the kind of person that prepared. For the foreseeable, like classes, Prefect rounds, trips home. But also for the unthinkable, like scares, attacks, even a war. At the same time that homework ran through her head, so too did it swim in defensive spells. Then Mary was always accustomed to existing in two worlds. Multitasking. If it wasn't possible that she was doubled, then she was definitely halved.