(credit to: quicksilvrs for gif!)

「 ✦ a desperate plea ✦ 」

        It was still very tense between Constance and Phoebe, and when there was tension between those two, Aithne was dragged in. Constance was apologetic about pushing Phoebe over but the blonde was not budging. Whenever Aithne and Phoebe were together Constance would approach which led to Phoebe storming off. Aithne couldn't blame her friend, what Constance did was very rude, but this seemed typical for her.

     All of this led to Aithne being perched on her bed, silently observing Phoebe's escalating fury. This felt like it had been a long time coming. The pair had found themselves alone in their dorm room, yet she was wary of being alone with her. What began as a recounting of what Constance had done now morphed into agitated muttering, leaving Aithne increasingly uneasy as Phoebe paced relentlessly, fixating her glare on the poor floorboards. Phoebe's muttered words became unintelligible, adding to Aithne's growing concern.

     Aithne's eyes widened as she came to terms with the depth of Phoebe's anger over what seemed like typical Constance's behavior. Yes, it was rude but that was who she was! Aithne remembered Constance's past antics, including a particularly memorable hex on a first-year who 'dared approach' Aithne too closely. As this flashed through her mind, she remembered Phoebe had found this amusing. She agreed that this behavior was problematic but she didn't know what to do to mend it. Especially when she had been acting like this since her first year.

     She tried to recall how she had become friends with Constance. It was a bit blurry but Aithne could remember it was first year and she had been sitting alone at the Slytherin table. This was before everything, it was before her popularity and the change taught to her by her sister. Constance had sat down next to her and started to talk. The rest was history.

      Deciding it was time to speak up, Aithne started, "Are you alright, Phoebe? I'm sure she didn't mean any harm." Phoebe's pacing halted abruptly, her gaze now fixed on Aithne, though the anger seemed to have shifted focus. Aithne's apprehension heightened as Phoebe's stare intensified, but the muttering had ceased—a small victory, at least.

      As Phoebe's gaze burned into her, Aithne's nerves prickled, uncertain of what her reaction would be. She held her breath, waiting for Phoebe's response, hoping to defuse the tension. She was always terrified of her when she was mad.

      Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Phoebe's features softened, the anger within her eyes subsiding into a calmer expression. With a heavy sigh, she collapsed onto the edge of her own bed, the tension in her shoulders releasing slightly.

      "I know, Aithne," Phoebe admitted, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "It's just unbelievable. I know that everyone loves you - a little too much sometimes - but that doesn't matter."

      Aithne raised a brow, was Phoebe mad at her? Phoebe could sense her confusion and sighed as she leaned back onto her bed, her body now facing the ceiling. It was quiet for a moment before she began, "Everyone is obsessed with you. Which is fine! You are lovely, but it just gets strange how enamored they are."

      An awkward silence hung in the air after that was said. Neither girl knew quite how to handle this. Sure, everyone was aware of the height of Aithne's popularity, it just was never spoken into existence. She was never aware it bothered Phoebe.

     "I can't control how others feel about me," Aithne finally sighed. She couldn't pretend it bothered her how people felt about her. This is how it had been for a long time, Phoebe had never known any different. Aithne wasn't even sure she would have her friends if she wasn't well-liked. This was her survival.

      "I know," Phoebe said.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

      "Do your hair like this," Clover demonstrated for her sister, she pulled her hair into a loose braid. "It is much more flattering."

     Aithne studied her sister's fingertips weaving their way through her hair. Clover had been teaching her how to perfect herself. It was time for Aithne to take her place since Clover was going to graduate. Their parents always told them to bring the Greengrass name pride. Aithne was doing her job.

     "Thanks, Clover," Aithne said, her fingers mimicking her sister's movements as she attempted to replicate the braid.

       Clover smiled warmly. "Of course, Aithne. You know I've got your back. Besides, soon enough, you'll be the one showing me new tricks."

      Aithne's eyes widened at the thought. "I don't know about that. You've always been the expert with everything." How could she ever know something Clover didn't?

      "Maybe," Clover replied, her tone playful. "But you've got your own flair, Aithne. You just need to embrace it."

      Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of their parents' voices downstairs. The reminder of their family's expectations brought a sense of worry to return to her. She seemed to always have some sort of dread, it was always floating in the background.

     "I know we're supposed to make them proud," Aithne murmured, her fingers still working on the braid. This was new for them. Neither had ever mentioned how the pressure may have been too much to carry. The Greengrass sisters can take anything on, it doesn't matter how much it weighs. "But sometimes it feels like a lot of pressure."

      Clover paused, her gaze meeting her sisters. "I get it, Aithne. But remember, we're in this together. And no matter what, we'll always have each other."

      Clover reached out, gently adjusting a section of Aithne's braid. "There, perfect. See? You've got this."

      Their parents' voices grew louder, signaling their imminent arrival upstairs. Aithne straightened her posture, ready to greet them with the confidence her sister had instilled in her.

      As their parents entered the room, their expressions softened at the sight of their daughters. "You both look lovely," their mother remarked, her eyes shining with pride.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

      Constance and Phoebe seemed to be getting along now. Aithne just hoped this would last. They had decided to scramble to the library before potions, this did require for them to skip lunch but Aithne planned on sneaking into the kitchens later. The first week of school had been dreadful. Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to assign stacks and stacks of homework? Wasn't the seventh year supposed to be a little easy?

      Aithne noticed how Phoebe's head started to droop lower and lower until it almost banged on the table. The early mornings were still not agreeable. Aithne hated the mornings too, but she was much better at getting up than Phoebe was. She wondered how long Phoebe could sleep if it wasn't interrupted. Her attention shifted to Constance who was staring at who knows what, it didn't seem to be interesting. She was humming quietly under her breath as she tapped her quill against the cool surface of the table. Aithne seemed to be the only person who was actually studying.

      She was currently working on her essay for potions, it had to be two feet long which sounded insane to Aithne. She wasn't sure how much she had to say about rat tonic, definitely not two feet worth. Come on, Aithne never planned on owning a rat! She had about half a foot so far, she was hurrying to get another foot and a half before potions started. It had completely slipped her mind that it was due. Aithne knew that realistically if she came up with some sad story to Slughorn, he would let her off. He seemed to have a strong bias for anyone apart of 'Slug Club'.

When Constance let out a dramatic sigh and Phoebe was softly snoring, that is when Aithne caught the hint and let them go. Once they were told to go, Aithne watched with a bored expression as they hurried away. Those two were never very strict with homework. She was glad they made up though, the past days had been exhausting. She turned back to her parchment with a sigh, damn her aggressive procrastination. She kept crossing words out as she desperately tried to come up with anything interesting. She had already gone through the steps and ingredients needed to brew the potion and that it helped aging rats heal. What else could she say?

     Aithne was so wrapped up in her essay she didn't even notice someone had sat down next to her until she let out a high-pitched scream. Her widened eyes met hazel ones as she looked around in embarrassment as people sent her odd looks. She was really on a roll with humiliating herself. Once she calmed down, she realized it was James fucking Potter who was sitting across from her. What the hell!

     He was examining her, looking at her in a way she didn't like. It was almost as if James didn't even know why he was there. Like his legs went on autopilot and dragged him to her table and now he didn't know what to do with himself. Aithne was not used to this treatment, usually if some random person approached her they would start talking her ear off about who knows what. This felt weird for her, she wasn't sure how to handle this. Clover had never prepared her for such a scenario, leaving her at a loss for how to respond to this unexpected attention from a Gryffindor. Every aspect of the encounter felt unfamiliar and discomforting to her.

Aithne was used to watching him from a distance, not up close. She knew rationally that whatever it was, he most likely meant well. She had never witnessed Potter be mean. But that rivalry was understandable.

"Um," she began, unsure of what to say. "I believe you're at the wrong table. Your friends are over there," she gestured across the library, where his three friends were seated, staring back at them. Aithne scanned their faces briefly, not caring to decipher who was who: the short blonde guy seemed particularly intrigued, the tall, lanky one glanced over occasionally but seemed indifferent, and Sirius, who she couldn't mistake, locked eyes with her, his gaze piercing. Choosing to divert her attention, Aithne turned back to Potter, he seemed the most approachable.

     "I know," he said wearily. He started to fidget with the hem of his robes as he looked everywhere but at her. Aithne was starting to feel a sense of embarrassment creep up on her as she awaited his response. Was this just going to be a sequel to History of Magic? "I just couldn't stop thinking about class a few days ago."

     "Oh," she murmured softly, her gaze shifting away from him. Aithne found herself fixating on her shoes. Her mind was racing but also felt empty at the same time. She was trying to figure out why he would bring this topic up. It was his best friend who did it. Aithne would admit, that maybe it was a bit strange for her to be staring at someone she didn't know.

"Sirius was out of hand, so I apologize on his behalf," Potter said. Aithne looked up to him, he looked genuine.

"Thank you." She breathed out. So he wasn't here to torture her...

They sat there for a few more seconds in silence before he reached over for her parchment. She watched as Potter studied it, his eyes moving across the page as he read.

"It's horrible," Aithne said, with a dry laugh. "Potions is not my thing, unfortunately."

"I'm not half bad at it," Potter said as he handed the parchment back to her. "I didn't much care for this essay either. But I was able to meet the requirements because I know a lot about rats."

She gave him a confused look, "Rats?"

It seemed he realized he said something off because he cleared his throat awkwardly, "Just a favorite animal of mine, I guess. I like their tails, they kind of look like worms. But stags are way cooler."

Aithne nodded slowly. What was happening? Was the earth caving in? That had to be it. There was no other reason for Potter to talk to her.

"Anyways," Potter continued, he had now picked up her quill and was fiddling with it as he spoke. Aithne noticed right away it was difficult for him to stay still. "It might be too late for this assignment. But I can help you on the next essay, if you want."

This wasn't right. She was not supposed to be mingling with a Gryffindor of all people. But as she fought with herself, she blurted, "Okay, thank you."

Merlin, help Aithne!

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

      Aithne stood in the Slytherin stands, her green and silver scarf fluttering in the warm breeze. The sun shone down on everyone, it was a perfect day. The first Quidditch game of the season, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement as students cheered and waved banners. Slytherin was facing Gryffindor for today's game, and Aithne just hoped they would win. They had a few good players on their team. Phoebe was their seeker and she was brilliant, Theodore was a solid chaser, and everyone else was good enough to carry them to victory.

     Amidst the sea of excited faces, Aithne's expression remained composed. In truth, the sport held little interest for her. However, the game provided a perfect backdrop for her perfectly chosen outfit and styled hair, drawing in glances from those around her. At that moment, Aithne decided she loved Quidditch— not for the game itself, but for the fashion opportunities. Quidditch was fine, it just got boring and repetitive after a while. It was also such a fast-paced sport it was sometimes difficult to keep up with.

     Constance had surprisingly opted out of going, she hated being around any type of flying thing that could hit her. So, this left Aithne with the other members of her house. Amaryllis Parkinson stood beside her, she wore a silver shiny hat that almost blinded Aithne as it reflected onto her face. Amaryllis was nice enough.  Aithne could stand an afternoon with her at least. The hot sun beat down on them as they surveyed the players mount their brooms, if she was being honest she had no idea what was happening until the winner was announced.

     Today some girl from Ravenclaw - she believed her name was Pandora - was commentating. It was normally some Gryffindor that was always painfully biased, so Aithne was glad for the change.

     Madam Hooch called for the game to start with a blow of her whistle, the crowd cheered as each player rose into the sky. It was a very bright day, and Aithne was not trying to blind herself. So instead of watching Quidditch, her attention shifted to her reflection on Amaryllis' head. This was much better.

     A little bit later Aithne tuned back into the game. Occasionally, a player would zoom past them causing her hair to get messed up. She watched with a scowl as she attempted to duck each time someone neared her spot. Constance had excelled at instilling this fear into her.

     Pandora spoke up thoughtfully, "The way they play quidditch reminds me of a Blibbering Humdinger!"

     Aithne and Amaryllis exchanged confused glances. She wasn't sure what a Blibbering Humdinger was. Pandora continued to ramble on about random creatures, and Aithne listened along. It was mildly interesting to hear what she came up with. Aithne could spot Mcgonagall standing behind Pandora with an exasperated expression, it seemed some people didn't care for her comments.

     It wasn't long until Pandora spoke up brightly, "Oh! Potter caught the snitch - oh, he is nice - that means Gryffindor wins!"

    The crowd of crimson erupted into excited applause and cheers. Across the pitch the Slytherins all sighed in defeat, shaking their heads in disappointment. Potter usually won, it was no surprise. She slumped in defeat, with a small sigh, Aithne decided to make her way down onto the pitch so she could give her condolences to her friends. It wasn't good luck to lose the first game of the season so she knew they would be in a bitter mood.

     As she made her way down onto the grass, Aithne observed the Gryffindors - more specifically Potter - celebrating together. His hair stuck to his sweaty forehead as Sirius was clapping his friend on the back as they made their way off the pitch. She turned away from them with a scowl, it was time to stop looking at them. Aithne's life was perfect, there was no reason to be looking at anyone else's.

     She spotted Theodore next to Mulciber, they were talking seriously. Aithne couldn't find Phoebe, so she decided to approach them. She hadn't talked to Theodore in a few weeks anyway. This was not on purpose, she had been busy! Considering they were an item of sorts, she figured she should talk to him more often.

      Aithne joined his side and as she did any conversation they had been having had stopped. She raised a brow but chose not to think about it deeply. Theodore stretched his arm around her shoulders bringing her into his side. Aithne shuddered, the unpleasant aroma of sweat infiltrated her senses. "Tough loss, but you still played good!" Aithne lied, pretending she had been watching him.

     Theodore nodded but didn't say anything as he led them off the pitch. This is what was right.

     Right?

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

     Win or lose, Slytherin always hosted a party after each match. This party, however, was a pity party. They hated losing, to begin with, but to lose to Gryffindor was a disgrace! Each person was either drowning their sorrows in fire whiskey or was slumped on various pieces of furniture. Because that is healthy, Aithne thought to herself as she entered the Common Room.

     It seemed Phoebe and Constance had indulged a little too far and were now giggling in a corner together. Aithne looked at them with an amused expression before moving on, she was not in the mood to deal with those two right now. She then noticed Theodore, he was alone on the sofa. A drink in his hand as his eyes roamed the room, they soon met hers, and Aithne took this as an invitation to join him.

   Aithne sat down next to him and felt his arm return to her side. She almost shuddered; it must have been cold in the Common Room. She turned to face the side of his head as she nestled herself further into his embrace. This was what was right. She was always destined for someone like this, someone like him. Theodore Nott was the perfect choice for Aithne Greengrass, she kept repeating in her head. She could almost believe it-no, she did believe it.

     "Hi," she greeted.

     "Hello," Theodore said in an amused tone. His hands drew small circles on her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. "I have to admit, I am surprised you are acknowledging my existence," he muttered cooly.

     Aithne raised an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I?"

     Theodore shrugged, his gaze drifting to the fire fighting to stay lit. "You've seemed... distant lately. Preoccupied."

     Aithne sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "There's a lot on my mind."

     Theodore's hand stilled on her arm, "That must be why you skipped lunch for the library earlier."

    Aithne's breathing paused for a moment, before returning evenly, "Have to study. You know the standards I am held to."

     "Hm," he hummed.

     It felt like he didn't believe her, but she didn't have the energy to press any further. They sat in silence, the tension between them growing. Aithne wanted to say more, to bridge the gap that seemed to be widening with each passing day, but the words wouldn't come. She didn't have much to say.

     "You know, it's not just about studying, Aithne," Theodore said suddenly, his voice tinged with frustration. "It's about being present. With me. With us."

     She looked up at him, his face illuminated by the dim firelight. She tried to hide the annoyance present in her tone. What about him? What about when his eyes drifted to other girls, was that very present of him? "I am here, Theodore. Right now, I am here."

     He shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Physically, maybe."

     "That's not fair," she whispered, her voice trembling. She spared a glance around the room to see if anyone was looking. She was glad when she found that nobody was paying them any mind. "I'm doing my best."

     "Your best?" he echoed, a harsh laugh escaping him. "If this is your best, then maybe we're doomed."

      Aithne felt tears prick at her eyes, but she blinked them away. "Why are you being like this?"

      "Because I don't want to be the one left behind," he snapped. "Every time you pull away, every time you hide in the library or avoid me, it hurts like hell."

      She swallowed hard, just wanting this conversation to end. "I want to be with you!"

      "Then prove it," he said quietly, "Be here. Be present. Show me that I'm not another expectation you're trying to meet."

      That comment burned, she could feel the heat rising to the surface of her skin. Aithne nodded, "I will. I promise."

     He nodded, "Just don't break us."

     "I won't," she said, bringing his lips to hers. "I won't."

     This is what was supposed to be right.

★・・・・・・★