daydreaming

his own grin is threatening to break out, spurred on both by the look on draco’s face yesterday when tracey had snapped, but also at her own joy. after everything that happened, it was good to see tracey smile like that again, looking more like herself than she had in the last few weeks. “you do not hate draco,” theo says to be contrary. 

he winces at her cry, but doesn’t push her away when she kisses his cheek, groaning instead. “how many more years do i have to say you we don’t need to celebrate my birthday? I don’t care for it. we can just celebrate yours extra big every year.” but curiosity gets the better of him and he can’t resist adding, “what plans?”

“hating draco is like, second nature to us, at this point.” she says, pointing her fork at him, “and as a quidditch player, i was offended by that performance. everyone in that stadium was.” she shrugs, eyebrows raised as to show how universal the malfoy-hatred is. 

“i am shocked, theodore atticus nott, that you would dare think that the same argument every year will make me give into your dull, cold, birthday celebrationless alternative.” she takes another bite, “plus, i got up super early for you. appreciate.” she crosses her legs underneath the table, presses her chin against her hands. “alright! so. first, we’re going to the library to pick up the muggle books i told you about. then! we are headed to the one and only hogsmeade, first to scrivenshaft’s, and then dogweed and deathcap, followed by a trip to hog’s head, where you shall receive your gift, and a beverage of your choice! and then! we come back here, get some nice tea and dinner from the kitchens, head to the central tower, where i have prepared a nice surprise for you, which is not a surprise party, but more, like, a theo-and-tracey chill-and-read hangout. sounds good?”

The really tragic thing about all of this is that in truth, Parvati has more in common on a friendship level with Tracey than she ever has with Padma. The sense of whimsy and spontaneity they shared was something that she’d found so delightful back when they were friends — when they were allowed to be friends. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss it, but loyalty to her sister needed to come first. She and Padma are different as night and day, they’ve always known that; but regardless of how comfortable she used to feel around Tracey, Padma will continue to come first. 

“That’s a pretty huge fucking question,” Parvati replies with a tired laugh, crossing her arms together for warmth. “I’m alright, I guess. As good as I can be.” She knows who Tracey is even more interested to hear about, though; the girl’s tone made it clear that she longs for information beyond meaningless small talk. “I think she is as well,” Parvati continues, knowing it’s obvious that she means Padma. “Honestly, we’re not really talking at the moment. We had a big fight.” She glances at Tracey apologetically, wishing she could give the girl more of the answers she’s looking for. Truth be told, she’s been wondering how Tracey is doing ever since she heard the news about her father back in November — until then, Parvati had been under the impression that she was pureblood. 

“How’ve you been?” Parvati returns the question with a raised eyebrow. 

tracey has always wondered how it would feel to have a sibling -- older, younger, identical -- how things like trust and loyalty grow between two people, how family expands. she’s found people she considers family, of course she has, but it’s not the same as growing up with someone, is it? because parvati says we had a big fight, and tracey hears but i still love her, and she doesn’t understand the unspoken bond between the two of them. parvati and padma couldn’t be any more different, but they’re so -- familiar, familial, and tracey will never comprehend the fullness of it. and maybe under these circumstances, she doesn’t want to.

she drops the cigarette on the ground and crushes underneath her boot. she’s fighting the urge to light another one, so she pushes her hands inside the pockets of her jacket, and turns towards parvati. “what was it this time?” she asks, “she still thinks you’re too emotional for your own good?” she imitates padma’s stoic, rough tone -- because she’s been scrutinized by it, herself, countless times. she sighs, looks up at the sky. there is more snow to fall.

“that is a pretty huge fucking question, huh?” she says with a snort. she looks at her feet, the footprints they’ve left on the snow. “i don’t know, parvati.” she shakes her head. “i really don’t.”

“They’re your friends. They should want to get to know your girlfriend,” Sally-Anne replies simply. She’s aware of the many factors in play here and the nuance to the situation — some of Tracey’s friends would likely not take kindly to Padma considering her family background. Of course, some of Tracey’s friends would likely not take kindly to Tracey herself, if they knew the truth of her own parentage… but that’s a sensitive topic for a different time and place. 

“’Second favorite’? I take back what I said, you are an arse,” she laughs, nudging Tracey playfully. Sure, Tracey might have a girlfriend now, but Sally-Anne is going to keep teasing her about her crush on Finn until the day they die. “I’ve got nothing going on, really. I mean, it’s been more than a year since I dated anyone, which is kind of sad, but still okay. Besides, dating isn’t looking too appealing since what happened to —” she cuts herself off. Sally-Anne doesn’t want to ruin the good mood by thinking about how heartbroken Stephen’s been. “You know, all the drama recently.”

sally-anne’s statement forces tracey in a daze, and she sighs as her gaze flows into the great lake -- “yes, they are my friends. they are my friends, but they are slytherin first.” and isn’t that a hard pill to swallow? only theo knows the truth about her, and nobody else has bothered to ask -- she wonders if it’s a safe assumption, that she’s pureblood, if that’s how they stomach being close to her. “anyway,” she says, trying to defend them, even if she is always unsure, “i doubt padma wants to hang out with them, either.”

she laughs at sally-anne, because this is easy, laughing and teasing each other -- everything else is not. “you’re dropping down to third, sal!” she rests her head against sally-anne’s thigh as she lies down, properly, thinking about roger davies, how much of an douche he was, how she should have known he wasn’t good for sally-anne. she doesn’t bring it up. “yeah, tell me about it. at least you don’t have to see noah runcorn moping around all day.”

at daphne’s words, tracey felt -- a certain dread, for daphne, who’d loved pansy almost her entire life -- daphne, who had been there her for this whole time, who listened to her when she fucked things up with padma, who loved her, like a sister, despite not being of her blood, all the same. she was beyond tipsy, at that point, but daphne’s trembling frame sobered her up. her first instinct was to pull daphne into a hug, a warm embrace that she hoped communicated how she’d always be there for her, always. with a frown, she pulled herself away, taking a deep breath. “i -- you have to talk to her, daphne. you know you have to. not now, obviously, but -- you have to get an answer.”

tracey watches from her seat as people pass through the pathways of the hufflepuff common room, various degrees of wasted. she wonders if her own party for pansy and noah was this much fun -- she knows for sure that it was better coordinated ( or hopes it was ), but as the charmed fairy-lights shine different colors across her vision, as the music plays in beat of her own heart, she feels the tenderness of this moment, the liveliness of their shared escapism. tracey laughs, and laughs, and loves, because it’s been so long.

she looks at noah, as he approaches her -- it’s taken a good amount of time for her to be completely comfortable around him, and she still flinches whenever the tone of his voice reminds her of his father -- but now, after having won together, just the two of them against the ravenclaw team and their own, too -- it feels lighter to be with him, easier. she smiles at him, nods when he asks his question, and it takes her a moment, but --

“oh, fuck, noah,” she says, what have you done? and she doesn’t want to go full pansy or theo on him, because she understands the sheer pull of it, the overwhelming responsibility of doing something, anything -- “fuck.” she says again, because she doesn’t know how to handle this. not now -- not when she finally got used to it, with weeks away from getting her mother back -- and it’s sort of a privilege, isn’t it? to not have anyone to think of, when you’re doing something like this -- it’s not like tracey’s not wanted to do something, anything, herself -- but she’s had so much she’s had to protect, and now -- she doesn’t know if she’s envious, furious, confused, or all of the above.

“let’s -- let’s get out of here, for a bit,” she says, “i -- just, explain, okay?”

Tracey laughed while Morag still failed to see how the situation was anything close to amusing. She forced a smile on her lips for only a slight moment, before dropping it and frowning once again, wiping at her face. Maybe she should chill the fuck out, but Morag had no idea where to start — how could she stop caring about things that should no longer matter? For someone as controlling as her, she was quite out of control when it came to her own priorities. She was all too aware of the fact that she should try to sort them. She just didn’t know how, nor did she know if she even wanted to.

“You just … caused our potion to explode and you want me to chill out?” Morag’s eyebrows were raised, and she shook her head for a moment before taking a deep breath. She had to relax. She forced herself to stretch and bend her fingers in an attempt to shift her focus. “Fine. Fine, yeah. I’ll relax. It’s fine.” At this point, Morag was getting so lost in the workings of her mind that she was getting stressed over being stressed — and she had to stop herself before she lost complete control over her thoughts. It was just a potion. Slughorn wasn’t even here to see it. 

The goo vanished and she felt a little less tense. When Tracey figured out the source of the problem, she relaxed more, her shoulders rolling back a little, a sigh slipping past her lips. “We’re idiots. Amateurs. Truly!” She was smiling a little now, able to see the funny side of the situation now that they were able to fix it. “Just for the record, though — it was you who made the mistake. I never do anything wrong, ever.” Morag was trying to match Tracey’s vibe now, trying to seem lighter and amused and more chilled out, but she could see through her own pretenses easily. She grabbed a quill, scribbled down the revelations they had made and patted on the parchment. “It’s been noted. Let’s just start over and learn from our mistakes, yeah?”

tracey couldn’t fathom the constant state of worry and anguish that morag was in -- over her grades, over quidditch, over - that was about it, probably, but the fact remained that it was admirable how the girl didn’t explode into tiny little pieces whenever she was under a situation just barely out of her control. tracey, on the other hand, felt like she could definitely go for a butterbeer right now. but her conscious -- and she did have one, despite being a slytherin -- pulled her towards morag, looking for a way to help her. in this case, the best choice would be to brew the potion perfectly -- or just let morag do it.

she put a hesitant hand on morag’s shoulders, lips in a thin line. “look, morag. if i didn’t know you had a girlfriend, i’d tell you that you need to get laid. is everything alright with megan? are you two getting by, you know,” she wriggled her eyebrows, “because if not, i know a couple of girlfriend tricks, you know, to spice things up.” she had to laugh at her own words, but shook her head afterwards -- “honestly, though, macdougal, you need to take a breath. with me. in,” wait five seconds, “out. again.” her mother used to calm her father like this whenever he got too lost in his head, and the memory burned in tracey’s mind. “better?”

she hopped on her stool, going over the pages of their book -- she knew it was likely for her to fuck up again, and she didn’t think morag could handle another -- academic stress breakdown. though this was probably the reflection of something else that was going wrong in her life, and that list could be very wrong -- tracey would be one of the few people who knew how stressful this year actually was, wouldn’t she, with two parents locked in azkaban? she shook her head, tied a loose piece of hair around her finger -- “so. how about i read out the recipe, carefully, slowly, and you do the whole... ingredient mixing? i can also chop things up, i’m good at that. that sound good?”

the personal touch that was starting to emerge in the conversation was bringing a sense of awkwardness on fay’s end. she tended to keep things to herself more often than not, especially when it came to the slytherins. there was a distinct lack of trust there, a fear that they would somehow use any information against her if she gave it. “ah, y’know, who doesn’t get a little childish when it comes to a good drink,” was her response, a shrug following suit for good measure. her hand rose to the back of her neck, rubbing across it as she chuckled along with tracey, the sound a lot more hollow than her typical booming laugh. “best to put the stuff to good use, ay? bottle doesn’t do anyone any good if it’s not in a hand. it’s a bet, though. we can just…i dunno, meet up…someplace or whatever once we have it and just…drink?”

she still wondered why she’d let out so much in so few words to fay, but tracey had never been the one to dwell on the past. it was -- refreshing, to get a new perspective, to hear someone else’s voice other than the ones that belonged to the dungeons. maybe she needed to get out, like this, to forget. to hear something else, anything else, anyone else. “yeah, definitely.” she replied with a shrug of her own, “wouldn’t want to let it go to waste now, would we?” she turned to look at the sunset, coloring the sky, and thought of her mother’s smile as she pressed her favourite glass of wine against her lips. “i think i’d like that.” she turned to give fay a smile, albeit small, and tried to remember how it felt to be free. maybe they could have something like that, again.

WHEN: 21st January, 8:30am WHERE: Great Hall WHO: @trcydvs

Theo didn’t really care about his birthday — not in an edgy way where he hates his birthday, but more like he’s indifferent to the day in general. It hadn’t ever been a big deal and, with everything going on right now, it’s the last thing on his mind to celebrate it. 

Speaking of which, he folds his arms from his seat at the table already when he sees Tracey enter the Hall for breakfast. His plate is already finished, but he didn’t manage to catch her yesterday after the Quidditch game — which he had attended out of support for Slytherin, which he couldn’t say about any of the other Quidditch games.

“I know Draco’s a bit of a dick recently,” Theo says as soon as she’s close enough. It’s almost amusement in his voice. “But did you have to go off at him that much?”

tracey hops her way to the great hall, despite the fact that she feels sore all over, and she has to see professor snape at some point for her antics yesterday. but they’ve won, and today is theodore’s birthday, and for the first time in a long time, she feels good -- she feels good all over, triumphant, something she hasn’t felt in a long time.

“you know you had fun during that, don’t lie!” she laughs as she sits across him, unable to fight back her grin. “and he was playing like shite. i hate him.” she shrugs, feeling an odd satisfaction in the pit of her stomach.

“but! more importantly!” she shouts, but she knows the slytherin table is used to her antics by now. “happy birthday, you stoic bastard!” she leans over to give a light hit to his arm, and press a kiss on his cheek. “i’ve got plans for the two of us today, nott. great plans. extraordinary plans. unbelievable plans.” she throws herself a pancake and some syrup before grinning at him, “so you better get ready, edgy boy.”

WHEN: January 17, 1998. 3:44 A.M. WHERE: The Kitchens WHO: @trcydvs

     Nights like these were ones she barely survived through, it felt like. Her chest heaving, the world feeling like it had paused yet she could feel every single movement of the Earth spinning on its axis, like it was within her. Instead of being grounding, it was nauseating, she needed to something with her hands – she needed to numb it all. It wasn’t until early morning, late at night that she could get peace in the kitchens, her little corner in the pantry her favorite space. Lily felt the tears fall down her face, barely registering them as hers, but let them flow because it felt like she had no choice but to do so. It didn’t matter how much food she ate, how much she drank, smoke, did, who she did, she ALWAYS came to this point at 3:44 A.M. crying. Liquid, involuntarily flowing out of her eyes, it was infuriating. Her anger alone didn’t make it stop. Nothing did.

     With a plate of chicken wings and a bottle of coke with some firewhiskey in it, she gorged herself as the tears fell. This was fine. This was ritual. This was normal. 

                                                    ( I am fine. )

     Until she heard someone.

     “Oi, fuck off, I got a bunch of chicken bones and I’m not afraid to use them.”  Lily desperately tried to wipe away her tears, realizing she was getting some hot sauce on her face, “fuck, shit.”

when the sweet embrace of sleep didn’t come, and it rarely did -- tracey would feel the urge to occupy herself with something, anything. this something would usually be flying, if she felt like she wouldn’t get caught -- or if she didn’t give a shit about getting caught. but with the freezing cold, and the memory of her first crucio burning her flesh, tracey knew attempting to forget her misery with the wind wasn’t the best choice for tonight. neither was tossing and turning in her bed.

once, sally-anne and hannah had taken her to the kitchens at night -- though if she were to be honest, it had barely been evening, compared to this hour -- and after that, she’d accompanied sally-anne multiple times to get fresh fruit and the like for their afternoon picnics. she had never been there on her own, but a sad hunger crawled up in her throat -- she knew where she was headed. the only thing that would make this escapade better was alcohol, but her stash was starting to run out -- food would have to do.

what she didn’t expect, when she finally found her way into the dungeons, was lily’s figure, hunched over some -- delicious looking -- chicken wings, tears falling down her face. before she could wipe them away, tracey tried to warn her -- “wait, shit, hot sauce --” but she was too late, and a bitter smile bloomed on her lips.

“what the fuck, lily.” she almost laughed at the absolute ludicrousness of the situation, and placed herself next to lily, “it’s almost like it’s your first time stuffing yourself with hot chicken wings.” she motioned towards the food, “gimme.”