Chapter 3

School returned and she hated it, she hated the students and the eyes and the feast of the returning night that struck her mind. She hated the crying she did as she ran from the hall too consumed by nausea and the attention eating away at her that she couldn't bear, she hated it, she hated all of it and she couldn't bring herself to look in the direction of her friends.

Everything seemed okay, nothing was alright, nothing was fine but it was plain and simple and okay and she had James to depend on if she needed him but she always wished she didn't no matter what words he said to her, it was a feeling of intense weakness she couldn't seem to shake.

She missed most classes, all except one and even showing up there didn't feel right. The pain in the Professor's eyes as she watched the girl take a seat at the very back of the class, and almost any time she asked a question she watched the class fall silent, some forgetting and most waiting for the bright bubbly Bea's hand to shoot up into the air and yet it never did.

She remained still and silent and she had drawn on the corner of a parchment small doodles of help but she wasn't good at drawing, she liked the swipe of the quill on the parchment, she liked seeing the finished result. It was like magic, drawing was, and she was intrigued by the art of it, how something could appear from her memory and look back at her from the tiniest corner.

It wasn't wise going to the class she didn't need to show up for, she could take the O.W.L and ace it without studying because for her entire school life she studied every day, essay after essay and plant after plant, she knew it all, she was a know it all in the art of herbology.

And that wasn't a bad thing. It was never a bad thing to know something, she knew of plants and words and spells. She could recite incantations and grow flowers out of thin air and it was incredible, and her mind expanded with everything she learned but showing up to class wasn't going to help her learn anything, she had taught herself that already.

It was hard to cope, for her to even talk to James sometimes, she just didn't want to. She contemplated hurting herself just to feel again but it seemed useless when the pain just added to what she already felt. She was in pain always because no matter how much she tried to stop the memories seeping into her mind, sometimes it was though she was forced to remember.

Sometimes her mind would wander and she was blissfully unaware and her friends where by her side and she was with James and he was smiling so widely and she could feel herself smiling too and laughter was around her and -

Reality came crashing back down on her every time like a weight she had to force herself out from under and sometimes it was harder. She felt like she was drowning, choking on the pain she felt and swimming to the surface was a long-gone opportunity no matter how much she tried.

Currently, she was wandering the halls rid of students who had rushed to their classes. The early morning September sun was already in the sky during her stroll, light clearing the way through the arches to the courtyard and a soft breeze creating the smallest bumps on her arms.

She was in her own mind, own thoughts pounding in her forehead and her chest aching, she wished to release what she felt, wish to scream, wished to fly and leave but she couldn't. She stayed on the ground and she kept her head down, her eyes on the concrete and the stone and the flowers of the courtyard and she wasn't looking where she was going.

And then suddenly she was on the ground, eyes wide and the smallest squeak leaving her lips and a pain in her shoulder. It all happened so fast she didn't quite know what to make of it, she was forcefully pulled from her thoughts when she heard a voice above her.

"Oh shit! Shit, holy shit, sorry!" he rambled, wide-eyed, thrusting his hand out in front of her, "holy shit did I do that?! wait no, o-oh god, I'm sorry."

She was hesitant, but she was still Bea and she would do anything in order not to make someone else - who seemed very awkward - uncomfortable, so she reached for his hand and he helped her up, "you look fucking awful."

Her eyes narrowed at him and her head tilted as though wondering who he was and why his accent was so different from anything she had ever heard. American, she thought - but no, she was wrong and she knew it as soon as she said it.

"I'm Beau, short for beautiful of course," he shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans. He wasn't in robes, nor did he have any indication of a Hogwarts house plastered on him. It was very obvious he wasn't British, Hogwarts must've allowed a transfer or maybe he had moved to somewhere in Britain but she didn't know.

He was tall and very handsome though that wasn't in her thoughts as she eyed him carefully. His skin was very tanned and she was sure he must've been from somewhere warm, and his eyes swirled a bright blue whilst his hair sported a golden blonde colour.

"I'm Bea," she whispered quietly, and he stuck his hand out once more which she shook, "I suppose also short for beautiful."

"Looks like we're one in the same, Bea," he grinned cheekily, suddenly bending down in order to gather up his books, "you know I thought I knew you from somewhere, sure your face was familiar or something like that - are you the girl everyone's talking about?"

She nodded silently, and was ready to continue on her way when his words struck a chord, "it'll get better."

She narrowed her eyes when she turned around, seeing the wide grin on his lips and his eyes crinkling with a kind delight and she didn't even have to speak, "course you're probably wondering how this fucking twat in front of you - wait do you say that? twat I mean, I'd never heard it before until I moved here. Love it though, anyway what was I saying? Oh yes, it'll get better, course it will!"

"Because you would know," she growled and turned on her heel quickly once more. She didn't want to talk to anyone, especially not someone who decided upon meeting that he would insult her of all things. She wished most of all to go to her dorm but she couldn't just yet, she was getting a new one.

"Don't take that the wrong way - Bea," he frowned, rushing to catch up with her, "I would know...actually."

She stopped in her tracks, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed as she stared up at the boy, "you do?"

"The smile surprises people." He merely shrugged, "I'm rather surprised you're even talking, must be brave, you, I say. I wouldn't look at anyone or talk to anyone for three months straight."

"I barely do."

"Understandable."

"Why are you telling me this?" her voice was quiet and the usual hoarseness was heard through the tone of her voice, the sad tone, a breathy whisper and as much as she missed talking, she hated hearing her voice float through her ears.

All she could remember was her pleads and begs for the man to stop when the sound was heard.

"I've been here all of two days and I already know more about you than I do with anyone," he shrugged. He wasn't a mean person, Beau, he didn't think she looked "fucking awful" but sometimes it was easier to ease the tension than saying something awkward, "I don't know what you used to look like but I can tell you that your hair isn't sandy brown anymore and it's definitely not long."

"I cut it."

"Dyed it too?" he asked, "my hair used to be black. Naturally blonde of course, but I dyed it black so that I wouldn't see the same person in the mirror, that's why you did it too, right?"

"Who are you?" her voice was angry now, and louder than it had been in months and she turned to him and her wand was at his throat and it was a split-second anger that she instantly regretted but she held her place.

His hands shot in the air and his emotions changed and she saw it in his eyes, pity.

"A new student who ran into a girl who coincidently is going through what I've been through," he said coolly after regaining himself, "put your wand down you're fucking terrifying."

"You swear a lot," she commented, it was an observation and she was still glaring at him but she pulled her wand away from him after a few more seconds.

"I know." He didn't say why and she was curious as to why not but she didn't pry, she knew better than that and he was silently thankful, "so Bea, got any hobbies?"

She glared at him once more, and as she returned to walking down the hall she simply said, "no."

"So, you don't like herbology?"

"Do you know everything about me?!" she exclaimed, eying the boy one last time and soon turning down one of the hallways though he wasn't far behind her.

"It's not my fault that I hear what I hear," he said as he strolled beside her, "you look very flustered."

She didn't want to talk to him anymore, she wanted him to leave her alone so that she could bask in her sadness and as though he read her thoughts, he said, "being alone makes it worse."

"I like being alone," she mumbled. She gripped her hair tighter than she usually did when she pushed it out of her face. He wasn't afraid to talk to her like her friends were, and his voice wasn't soothing like James' was, he was just acting...normal, and she hated how it felt because as much as she didn't know - or like - him, it was refreshing.

"Bullshit," he snorted, "if you liked being alone you would have tied me to the wall with a billion vines. You just hate the thought of everyone treating you like you're not human."

"Stop it," she snapped, anger in her tone that was so terribly foreign for her. She wasn't an angry person, she had never been, and yet the only thing she was feeling in her stomach and in her body, was the red-hot anger he was making her feel, "you don't know how I feel."

"Then tell me."

"I don't know you!" she barked, and this time the vines sprouted from the end of her wand so suddenly she couldn't stop herself even if she wanted to, and in a sudden, he was tied against the wall and thorns pierced his skin.

"I'm Australian," he called after her though she was barely listening, "not American."

She hurried down another corridor with her bag over her shoulder and soon climbed the stairs in order to reach the first floor. She was fuming with red-hot anger but she didn't know why, the old Bea would've been more than happy to meet someone new, to greet them with a bright smile and happiness and delight in her eyes.

But he was so...infuriating.

He assumed so much, he knew more than she wanted him to and she couldn't do anything about it and she didn't know why. All she knew was his name and something she wished she didn't and yet he knew so much.

She hated that she regretted the vines and her steps faltered at the thought of the unnecessary thorns. She wasn't gone, she wasn't the new Bea, she was always Bea who cared about everyone and had a heart of gold though it was buried under the sadness, buried deep inside her under a mountain of pain and torture and hurt.

But in some instances, like now, her heart shone.

She was hidden as she rounded to see him tied against the wall cursing up and down, "holy fuck that hurts! Fuck, fuck, fuck - shit, shit, shit - fuck shit! Fuck shit!"

She rolled her eyes at the excessive swearing once more, a trail of obscene words that she knew she would have laughed at in other circumstances, and with a small whisper and a flick of her wand, he fell to the ground and the scars on his body from the small piercings of the thorns had healed.

His head snapped around in order to see her, he knew it was her and he was ready to smirk...but she was gone.

[A/N Beau's polaroid is up my dudes]