Post-Detention Blues

[Avie Mitchell]

The Slytherin boy had brought it upon himself, he had decided to act out, and he had brought it upon himself, but it wasn't like his young and not so bright mind really held on to that fact. Avie Mitchell had just spent detention with the other, new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor and it had just involved sitting still doing nothing. For any person who knew Avie, would understand the sheer difficulty that he found in attempting to stay still. In attempting to not move to much, it wasn't just hard for him, it was near impossible. He had grown increasingly frustrated with himself as he'd failed at it, increasing frustrated at the professor who just wouldn't tell him where Styx was, or why he wasn't here, added to his increasing frustration was the incredibly recentness of his mother's death, and he just felt so wrong. Avie found that he cried himself to sleep knowing she'd never tell him a story, or that he would just start crying when he just thought about how he'd never see her again. Avie knew that was what death was, but he couldn't see how it was fair, he wanted his mother back. He wanted her, Avie got sometimes so overwhelmed with these feelings he could barely get himself to concentrate on the little he had to.

The Slytherin teen had left the classroom, where he'd had his detention and just headed straight outside, he'd felt his fingers cramping, his lungs unable to get the clean air, all of which faded the instant he'd set foot outside. He couldn't believe this, in the slightest. He felt like screaming, like running, like releasing all of the energy at once, so without even thinking about the pros and cons of it, Avie just set off on a run. Just running as fast as he could around the grounds, heading from the lake to the forest to the gardens and back to the lake, It was likely a good thing that due to the quidditch that Avie did that he had a high level of endurance so that he could keep this up. He just kept running and running, unable to bring himself to stop, the only thing which did in fact get him to stop was his own two feet when he tripped away and tumbled his way into the lake. He sat up, his back and his legs soaked, but didn't bother to get out the water, instead, as he felt tears brim in his eyes, he just grabbed a handful of rocks from the water beside him and began throwing them. His actions stopped occasionally by the odd shudder or sob or hiccup which cause movement to his body. He didn't know when he was going to stop feeling like this, the rocks were making him feeling a little better, but Avie was sure it was going to take all of the rocks to actually make him feel like he had before.
​

 

[Stella Lagowski]

"Fallen off any broomsticks lately, goblin breath?"

Stella, who had been minding her own business as she crossed the weathered-stone hallway, did not look up to ascertain the direction of the churlish remark. And what a stupid one it was, too; Stella didn't think there was anything wrong with her breath. Keeping her head low and her leather bound volume of Magical Drafts and Potions clutched to her chest, she weaved through the crowd and headed for the open double doors.

"Hey, pus face, I'm talking to you!"

Before her persecutor could follow, Stella broke into a sprint. She flew down the stone steps, across the cobbled courtyard, and did not slow until she was half way across the sloped lawn, panting and gasping for air. Even then, she glanced over her shoulder every few strides to make sure she wasn't being trailed. Great. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn't go back inside the castle; not with its oppressive walls, looming shadows and spiteful children to boot. Why those select few students insisted on making Stella's life a misery, she really didn't know. Jealously, she supposed, but thinking it didn't make her feel any better.

For a while, Stella wandered across the grounds with little direction. Fortunately, her classes had finished for the day, but the memories of them still swirled around her head like a whirlpool. It wasn't her fault she couldn't tell the difference between Hellbore and Asphadel, or whatever their stupid names were. Kicking a nearby pebble, Stella finally looked up to see where her legs had carried her, and gasped. "What the f- I mean, what the hell? Get out, you'll catch a chill!" she hollered, jogging up to the water's edge for a better look at the idiot who was waist deep in its murky breadth. Upon closer inspection, however, the side of the boy's head began to grow awfully familiar. "Avie?" she said, aghast.

 

[Avie Mitchell]

Avie's mind was unable to really see that sitting in the lake like he was would likely be bad for his health that really wasn't something he was overly bothered with, in fact aside from the numbing of his legs he barely registered it as cold. Avie's mind was whizzing around preoccupied with so many other things for once, having sat in that classroom, alone and with only his thoughts it had just been difficult to steer clear of thoughts of his mother. His mind which usually was whizzing between thoughts and ideas, things to do with Bothizar, where to look next with Marcel, how best to annoy Matt, the head of the yearbook which Avie worked for by thinking about finding and asking Mason about it, or about just sitting with Lucien throwing rocks at people, usually what followed these thoughts was a little bit of running around and Avie deciding what he might do with his time, having had to sit in the classroom, without fidgeting had just let his mind wander but had left him unable to do things, so it had bounced from thought to thought eventually just resting on his mother, resting on her death and the fact that Avie felt so incredibly upset about it. Avie sobbed loudly as he sat in the water, his mind seemed blank now, all he could do was sit and throw rocks, tired out from the running he'd just done.

Avie knew he wasn't the brightest person, he knew that he struggled with the most basic things, things just didn't always add up in his head as he assumed it did for others, he found it impossibly hard to not move around, he found it hard to be like Lucien and hide his emotions, he found it hard to be like Esme and actually be good at something. He liked quidditch, he was good at quidditch, but he was a seeker because he liked the shiny snitch, he liked chasing it. Avie threw a handful of rocks, not even bothering to look to see if any of them were worthy of his collection, he had tears slowly making their way down his cheeks, snot building up in his nose threatening to also fall and his body shook from the cold of the water, his sobs and his hiccups. He heard a voice yelling behind him, but he didn't glance around, not until the person said his name, the first year, whom he'd scary, Stella. The boy tried to smile but he couldn't find his words, he just sobbed and splashed the water in a childish manner, he wiped his eyes and his nose with his sleeve and waved slightly at her trying his best to be excited and cheerful like he'd been before, "Hi," he finally managed to say but it came out strained and was quickly followed by a small hiccup, he tried to smile, but it very quickly became a sad frown, Avie hated feeling like this, but he didn't know how to stop it.
​

 

[Stella Lagowski]

Stella felt as if she were the one whose legs were submerged in icy cold water. Rooted to the spot, she winced as the boy she had once known as buoyant and blithe let out a harrowing sob. When he turned to look at her, his face was sickeningly familiar; not because of their bizarre encounter on the sixth floor corridor, but because his expression almost perfectly mirrored the one Stella saw in her own reflection. Sadness, hidden behind a fleeting smile. No, not sadness - grief. Only Avie's grief must have been about ten times worse, because he looked as if someone had just kicked his pet dog, and he wore it on his face like it was going out of fashion.

Fighting hard at the urge to run in the opposite direction, Stella shifted nervously on her weight. What was she supposed to do? Comfort him? They had barely spoken to each other for longer than an hour. Stella couldn't even remember his surname, or, indeed, if he'd even produced it to her. Still, she couldn't leave him like this, could she? Throwing her heavy book down onto the grass with a thud, she stepped forward to the water's edge, held a hand out over the rippling surface and waggled her fingers. "Come on, or I'll get in too, and then blame you when I've got a cold," said Stella a little ruefully, suddenly wishing she'd paid more attention in charms. Two of her classmates could already create bluebell flames. If she'd tried a little bit harder, she might have been able to cast it for Avie once she'd coaxed him out of the water. But as it were, she was utterly useless, which was really no different to usual. She was beginning to wonder why she hadn't run back to the castle already; over bullies or trying to comfort a crying boy she knew next to nothing about, the former was looking very tempting.

 

[Avie Mitchell]

It seemed, though very beyond Avie's understanding, that the girl was perhaps not like his others friends, he didn't know her that well, but Avie in that moment honestly could not have cared. He shook his head at her, and what she was saying, he didn't want to sit with her, he didn't want to leave the water. He shook his head firmly at her, hiccuping again before turning back round facing away. He didn't want to talk about anything, he had been in detention and during that time he'd have given anything for a little bit of conversation but currently, all he could actually do was cry. His mind seemed even more unable to process and form words, he was sure that even with all the improvements, though they were really that many, that he'd made recently even the simplest book title he'd have trouble with. The detention which couldn't have come at a worse point really made him feel like the biggest fool, he'd thought because he'd felt himself beginning to get better that writing lines or cleaning something would be simple, but sitting in silence without being able to fidget it had sent him spiralling back to square one. Avie sniffed loudly, wiping his nose on his sleeve again, ignoring the girl behind him, he didn't want to get out, and he doubted she really wanted to get in the water. Avie's energy which he had most gotten rid of in running around was depleting fast and he was just feeling more at easy in being able to sit in the lake, throwing stones.

The teen picked up another handful of rocks and threw them as far as he could, this wasn't perhaps as far as normal because he was sitting down and feeling significantly more sorry for himself and less on edge from the detention. He no longer felt as jittery, the energy gone, and all that remained were the lingering thoughts of his mother. Avie let out a chocked sob as he dropped the stones he'd been about to throw and just buried his face in his hands, he felt like he was losing his mind, with all of these emotions, Avie had always stuck to being happy and excited, those were his easy defaults, he didn't venture to the sad or stressful, but here he was, crying, sitting in the lake, unable to get a handle or a real understanding of why he felt how he did or the reality of what his situation had become. Avie had completely forgotten about the girl stood behind him, he just felt like his entire world was slowly collapsing and that made him cry, the slytherin teen couldn't find any happiness, and he couldn't bring himself to be angry like Bothie had been, all he felt was sad and all he could do was cry.
​

 

[Stella Lagowski]

The reality was sinking faster than Avie's rocks. Grief wasn't even the right word to describe the pain she saw in the boy in front of her. She'd never seen anything quite like it - well, except on her mother's face, when Nana had died. Perhaps devastation was more fitting. Those tears were ones of pain and suffering, those sobs filled with inescapable despair, and Stella was kicking herself for only just having noticed the extent of his agony.

After a moment, she stepped back and lowered her hand, because her arm had begun to ache and Avie seemed intent on pretending to be a garden water feature. The bullies in the foyer suddenly felt very insignificant; they'd made Stella cry (when she was alone, of course), but never had she felt the need to sit in a dirty lake as a result. There were probably grindylows in there, for goodness' sake. Something was clearly very wrong, and Stella had no intention of leaving him in such a fragile state. She took another step back up the grassy bank, her vow to climb in with him long forgotten, and then sat down on the battered book she had tossed aside. It seemed prissy to worry about getting damp trousers when Avie was practically soaked to the bone, but she and mud did not have a friendly relationship.

A chilly breeze swept across the lake, tousling Stella's dirty-blonde locks and drawing her sharply to her senses. So, she was back to square one: what should she do? Stella lifted a hand to take a tress of hair and stick the ends in her mouth - a habit she had taken to when nervous. She couldn't just go back inside, and yet Avie seemed about as likely to talk as a brick wall. Pulling her arms around her stomach to retain some warmth, she said, "Should I get a professor?" It was unscrupulous, but Stella was fast running out of options, and between talking to a professor or herself, she rather hoped he would choose the latter.

 

[Avie Mitchell]

Avie wanted nothing more than to stop feeling like he did, he wanted to stop feeling like his world was just being torn apart, but he couldn't, all he seemed to manage to do was cry, and cry. He spent hours just laying in bed, jittering and playing with his rocks, while just laying on the covers, only ever half-heartedly playing, all enjoyment he had gotten was gone. All he had now was the fact he had something to do, something for his hands and his mind. The little pet rock which Esme had gotten him, was the only thing that occasionally pushed through his walls and brought the smallest smile to his face, but it didn't feel real. Had hadn't yet introduced Rocky to Bothie, or Lucien finding no strength to show them, even though he knew they were both very interested in his rock collection. When even that couldn't bring joy to Avie's life, even Avie realised something was deeply wrong. Did he want a professor? What could a professor do? So, he just shook his head, unable to form any words to express that he didn't want any professor, he was sure they'd call him silly, say he was too old to be so upset. Professors he felt didn't particularly like him, he struggled a huge deal with all of the work, he knew his writing and spelling were awful, they really wouldn't like that, he was the hyperactive child, whom they had no patience for, just like his aunt.

The teen wished then that Ciro had still be at the school, he had been kind, spent time with Avie, taken the time with him, but he too was gone, though as far as he knew not as gone as his mother. The slytherin teen's body was shaking, Avie wanted to go home, he wanted to go back to his mother, he wanted to go back to his dog, to his treehouse, Avie didn't like all this change, all this growing up. Avie wanted to be Peter Pan and be a child forever, he wanted to go on adventures and fly around just like in the story his mother used to read to him, or like the old muggle cartoon, "I don't want to wear green tights," the boy muttered between sobs and through his tears, though he spoke out loud as he pictured himself as Peter Pan, and his mind had quickly decided tights were not something he'd wear. Avie glanced up from his hands with both snot and tears running down his face and stared at his legs, imagining them with green tights instead of his school trousers, but he didn't stop crying, since all he could think of now, was the good few times his mother had sat with him to watch the cartoons Avie loved so much, no matter how childish it would appear to most.
​

This is not great, my apologies

 

[Stella Lagowski]

Stella watched as a crisp autumn leaf spun on the breeze for a moment before landing on the water's glinting surface. It was a reminder that winter was coming, and though she normally favoured the preceding months, this year it couldn't come quickly enough. Winter meant the holidays, and the holidays meant seeing Dad again. It was funny: now that she came to think of it, he hadn't written much this term. Perhaps he was busy with his up and coming film. Yes, yes that would definitely be it. The film which she could have starred in, had this Hogwarts rubbish not gotten in the way. How on earth could she be expected to endure another year of this awful school when she was so well adored for the things she had achieved at home?

Out of the corner of her eye, Stella could see Avie shaking his head, and she did not persist. Even the young Hufflepuff, who could be as blind as a bat when it came to other people's emotions, could tell that being grilled by a professor was not going to be a requisite in his recovery. If only she knew what was bothering him, she could have offered her advice (for whatever it was worth). The hard leather book was making Stella's bottom go numb, so she shifted a little and rested her chin in her hand. Considering that Stella and patience were practically antonyms, she was doing surprisingly well. Then, Avie said something which made her eyebrows knit, and she had to bite her cheek to stop herself from bursting out laughing. "Green tights?" she repeated, allowing herself a slight chuckle. "Nobody's making you wear green tights, are they?" Although there was a slightly amused tone to her voice, her eyes were beginning to sting with tears. She rubbed at these furiously. Nothing made Stella cry. Not in front of other people, anyway. For goodness' sake, this wouldn't do; it was one thing to grieve, but Avie looked like he was about to catch hypothermia. "You gonna tell me what's bothering you?" she asked gingerly, as if she wasn't sure she was going to like the reply it would warrant.


Neither is this but I figured any reply was better than no reply!

 

[Avie Mitchell]

Avie couldn't help as his mind thought more and more about that Peter Pan book which his mother had read to him. He'd seen the cartoon of it, but he had always preferred the book. He glanced round at Stella with tears still fresh on his face, nodding at what she'd repeated and then shaking his head at her question. He sniffed loudly and rubbed his sleeve underneath his nose not that it really made much of a different. The teen couldn't stop crying and he couldn't stop the snot from coming out of his nose. He felt so silly, so stupid, he wanted to be happy and laughing, he wanted to sit with Lucien and Bothie and just have fun, not be essentially crying at every turn. The boy shrugged, he didn't like saying it out loud, he didn't like the words, it made it too real in his eyes, the boy went from still believing his mother might come back, to realising that his mother never would. That she really was well and truly gone, there was no returning from it, and Avie really hated thinking about that. It brought more tears to his eyes and he was sure to not be looking at Stella when the did.

"I want to go home," he cried quietly, he knew his home wasn't a place where he would find what he wanted, without his mother he didn't want to be in that house, but really he wanted to be home, he wanted to sit in his mother's room as she worked colouring in a picture in as much silence as he could, but all of that was gone. His home wasn't the place he'd left, it was different now. The boy let out a choked sob as he seemed to be lost more to his tears, "I want to go home," he repeated quietly, "I want to be Peter Pan, then I'll live forever, and have fun always and won't ever have to worry about anything, I won't be sad ever again if I'm Peter Pan," Once started he couldn't stop, just saying all of those things about wanting to be Peter Pan, growing up really was his biggest fear, and with his mother gone he was suddenly faced with such a reality, "Do you think I could go to Neverland?" he asked hiccuping several times as he spoke with desperation in his voice, his mind seemingly not realising in his sadness that Neverland wasn't real, that it was a made up fantasy land. Avie glanced round at Stella he was really hoping she could point him towards Neverland. Avie got to his feet slowly, his body was shaking and he moved slowly, dripping wet. The slytherin teen made his way over to where Stella was, with tears still streaming down his face and then plopped down on to the ground next to her.
​

 

[Stella Lagowski]

Avie spoke with such innocence that Stella almost found herself wondering if Neverland was real. Who knew? Hogwarts and magic were the stuff of books and films. What was to say Neverland wasn't real, too? But she sighed, because she knew it wasn't, and no matter how often she longed such a place could exist, it just wouldn't. Stella kicked a nearby pebble, effectively discharging her irritation. She wasn't annoyed with Avie - no, not at all (even if he was testing her patience). She was annoyed with the school, and her bullies, and with her parents for not telling her who she was until her eleventh birthday. But most of all she was annoyed with whatever was upsetting Avie, because even if she'd known what it was, she was unlikely to have been able to have done anything about it.

Once again, the young Hufflepuff found herself wishing she'd paid more attention in charms. Avie looked freezing, and she was utterly helpless. Still, he was much older than Stella, and she supposed he could cast his own charms if he'd really wanted to. She was stumped by his question. Did he really believe Neverland was real? If he did, she couldn't bear to think of the look on his face if she were to shatter his illusion. But at the same time, it seemed a little unhealthy to fawn over some make-believe fantasy land. In the end she shrugged, and tried not to think about how cold Avie must have been. "I think we're probably already there," she said eventually, and then sighed. "I don't know. Sometimes I think that's what books are for. You know, for disappearing to places you'd rather be," she said, voicing an idea she had only kindled in her head until now. Books. Books and films, films and books. They were all just an escape from reality, weren't they? A way to put behind you all your troubles and concerns; if only for an hour or two. "Anyway," she said suddenly, "you don't want to be Peter Pan: he had to wear green tights. Besides, he probably had loads of problems of his own, we just didn't hear about them. Nobody's perfect." Stella would have continued, but her brain was beginning to hurt. She hadn't thought so deeply since she'd been ask to choose between vanilla or mint chocolate chip ice cream.

 

[Avie Mitchell]

Avie wouldn't normally have believed in such a thing, but his mind was just unable to really process all that had happened to him, it was just in these feelings, in this moment that his mind wanted so badly to believe in something that wasn't perhaps true. That his mind was trying it's best to just make sense of the things that he truly didn't understand, he understood that she was gone, but everything else was just hard. He struggled with it all, and the events of the detention did nothing to help him. He had been left to think and be alone with his thoughts unable to move around and distract himself as he'd been doing. He felt like his entire world was just caving in. Like he wouldn't be able to deal with any of it at all, and his world was just collapsing. He didn't like how he felt and now in the moment, green tights and all, Neverland seemed like a better option than this. He glanced at her as she spoke, then round at his own surroundings, already there? this didn't look like Neverland. After all where was the pirate ship, or the crocodiles? This couldn't be, it, Stella to him wasn't making sense.

Avie sighed as she continued speaking, it was true as much as he thought he might not mind the green tights they really were a deal breaker for him. He didn't know what to expect but he didn't like the sound of any of it really, "But, he just got to mess around all day," he all but whined, though he did understand what she was saying about it. He did understand what she was meaning, he knew that this was a ridiculous notion this really was, he had no way of getting to Neverland anyway, his broom could flying but it wasn't like he could really remember the star that would get him to where he wanted to be. Unhappily the teen just gave a heavy sigh, which gave way to a sob. He didn't like this, he hated this, he hated how it made him feel, "Can you just sit with me?" he asked, he didn't want to think any more, and he just wanted to sit for a little bit with his friend, even if he didn't say anything, "Just a little bit," the unspoken words of saying that they'll go back into the school after hanging in the air, Avie just needed a moment.
​

 

[Stella Lagowski]

"Sure," replied Stella at once, feeling useful for a change. Perhaps she could not offer words of comfort, nor cast a charm that would relinquish Avie of his pain, but she could definitely sit with him for a little while. Or a long while. Who cared? There was nothing in the castle Stella was exactly desperate to get back for anyway. The two sat in silence, save for Avie's hitching breath and the soft rustling of the breeze through the tendrils of a nearby willow. Leaves fell and littered the damp banks. Birds chirped for the coming evening. Students passed, but none close enough to take an interest in the two children by the lake. And all the while, Stella wondered to herself the reason behind Avie's longing to return home.

Eventually, when every square inch of her bottom was numb and there were no more comfortable positions in which to sit, Stella stood up. "Sorry," she said, brushing away a few stray blades of grass that had attached themselves to her robes and looking across the lake. "My bum hurts. I don't really want to go back in yet, but can we like, walk somewhere?" she suggested, her eyes falling on the sloped lawn that led down to the gardens. She neglected to mention why she didn't want to go back in, and sincerely hoped Avie wouldn't ask. Fortunately (or unfortunately, for him), the Slytherin didn't seem to be in the mood for small talk. It was all Stella could do not to sigh. He'd been so cheerful the last time they'd met; what could possibly have happened between then and now that had made him feel so wretched? There seemed to be little point in pressing the matter. Some things were personal, and Stella had enough of her own troubles to understand that not every story had to be shared. Still, she couldn't see herself getting much sleep that night; not when Avie would surely be sobbing his heart into his pillow. What on earth was bothering him?


Hope the slight godmod was okay - let me know if you'd like me to change it!