- Messages
- 19,398
- OOC First Name
- Emzies
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- Muggleborn
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- hetrosexual
- Wand
- Knotted 12 1/2 Inch Sturdy Fir Wand with Thestral Tail Hair Core
- Age
- 4/2015 (46)
Out of Character:
- I'm sorry this took so long
The transfiguration lesson had gone oddly. While they had not really done much other than have a lecture, the lecture had given the SLytherin a lot to think about. He knew it was silly to think so deeply into something that would in the end mean little to him. Transfiguration was not the lesson he most like, or knew the most about. It wasn't one he ever thought he'd do after school finished. But this one lesson had set his mind spinning. And he was sure that was more than just his lack of sleep paired with the fact he was empty of all energies. He thought it funny that others could just so easily take the side of the limitations, having no knowledge of what having none would really mean for someone like Stefan. Having lost his mother at two years old, and having no memories of her at all, the Slytherin would literally do anything to just see her. To just see her smile. The way her hair fell. To here her laugh and just be told that she was proud of him. That she loved him. Something the SLytherin was sure almost all the others in his class had once heard said to them by their mother. The more he thought about it, the more he knew there was literally nothing he would not do to see his mother again. Well maybe one thing. But that was more because despite everything the Slytherin boy desperately hung onto life. It did not matter how bad things got when he was at home, he knew that he could not just give up and move on. He had to keep fighting. For Kate, for his friends. He had to fight so that he could spend another year at the school. With the people he called his friends. To create more memories that would get him through the darkest of nights. Or the coldest of days. It had been a cold winter in New Zealand. He had never felt so cold in his life than the night two days before getting back to hogwarts where, he'd been locked in his bedroom, with the window stuck wide open, with nothing but his clothes on his back and a thin sheet taken from his bed. It had pretty much been one of the worst days of his life. And while he had more of those kind of days than any other kind, that one had pretty much been the day he thought he just wanted it to all end. And yet here he was, walking from the transfiguration classroom to the library. Feeling alive. He was alive. And while it hurt now, in the end, when he finally said goodbye to his father, he'd be happy and everything would fall into place.
And there was his second problem with the limitations. Not being able to create money. Stefan didn't think the rich girls and boys in his class were in any position to say that creating money would be a bad thing. Stefan knew that even a tiny bit more money in his household would make the world of difference. There would be more food, more food that Stefan could himself be able to eat. Since there was so little food in the house, his father got most of it, and Stefan received something every so often. Enough so that he lived, but not enough to be able to function perfectly. Too weak to rebel, were his father's words. What he was. Stefan knew he was thin. His clothes were baggy on him. He had thin arms, it was why the bruises shone brightly, and the cuts lasted long and formed scars. And he could never gain enough weight over the year to be able to manage. Stefan was in a no win situation. He could understand why there were some limitations, but he hated that they all seemed to affect those worst off. And by worst off, he meant people that were in his sort of situation. Hopefully it was not much like his, but enough that things were hard and difficult and not much was ever too clear. Stefan entered the library. it was quiet, for that he was thankful. Stefan wandered around, picking up books and flicking through them. He had grown fond of the library. It was a good place to come if he just wanted to work. And work he did. Since the assignments set took him a lot longer than most, he was there until the curfew most nights and this year, despite the huge improvements he had made over the past years, there was still no deny that Stefan was still very much behind. It had no helped the cut on his hand in the previous year. Now in this one, his arm was bruised and it hurt to breath. His breaths were short and quick. It was odd, but it did at times hurt to breath. He was able to keep it in check when in the classroom, but now he could hear his own breath and it wasn't like most people's. It was just another reminder of where he was from, how his father had complete control over him when he was at home. If it could be called Home. The start of the term was always harder for him than most. And each time he returned his inurigies seemed worse. Whether it was the bruise just below his right elbow, that was dark in colour and hurt at the slightest touch. Or the one on his left shoulder, shaped like a hand from where his father had violently grabbed him, and pulled him, then just carelessly thrown him upon on the floor of the room. they'd been in.
The thoughts of his father and home, had made Stefan unstead of his feet, and he was quick to dump what he was carrying in his arms to the table before collapsing into a chair. He sat for a moment attempting to catch his breath again. Stefan Archer closed his eyes and leaned his head against the books he'd placed carelessly on the table. He was alone in the section which was why, he was acting as such. Had there been people around, Stefan wouldn't found the nearest empty area, and just sat. At least now he had a table to sit at. A wave of tiredness washed over him. He felt himself drift to sleep. One serious side affect of being as thin as he was, was that he was tired, all the time. With so little energy keeping him going and his lack of sleep due to pain and reoccuring nightmares he had no energy to really spare. Which was why hadn't bothered trying to reconnect with his other friends. Primarily Kate, Sara and Willow. It was not because he knew that they knew about him. Just that he had to focus all the energy he did have to his school work. But he missed his friendly greatly. He missed the way Kate smiled, the fact she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He had hated that she'd stopped eating, but even skinny she was beautiful to him. But she was back to her old self, and Stefan was still as skinny. He missed his heart to hearts with Willow. The only person who could understand what it was like to feel rock bottom. While she had less experience, he always liked talking to her. And then there was Sara. A girl he greatly admired. She was strong and she was what he wanted in a family. Ones that cared when the other looked thin. One that would stand by them no matter what. Even though they'd never really seen eye to eye on some things he could hardly deny that he help the situation. He didn't like talking about him, but all three wanted him to. He knew that they were the ones that saw the pain in his eyes with each movement. The ones who realised a boy as skinny as Stefan wasn't just skinny for no reason. But He couldn't keep up with them. School work was enough. Slowly he reopened his eyes and pulled the books in front of him, as well as the parchment to write the essay. Once he had enough information, The slytherin boy began to write. Slow and steady. Taking explicit care as he wrote each letter. Each word. He yawned every so often. But he didn't realise when someone entered the area he was in. Too lost in working, it was pointless to listen to the world around him.
<i></i>And there was his second problem with the limitations. Not being able to create money. Stefan didn't think the rich girls and boys in his class were in any position to say that creating money would be a bad thing. Stefan knew that even a tiny bit more money in his household would make the world of difference. There would be more food, more food that Stefan could himself be able to eat. Since there was so little food in the house, his father got most of it, and Stefan received something every so often. Enough so that he lived, but not enough to be able to function perfectly. Too weak to rebel, were his father's words. What he was. Stefan knew he was thin. His clothes were baggy on him. He had thin arms, it was why the bruises shone brightly, and the cuts lasted long and formed scars. And he could never gain enough weight over the year to be able to manage. Stefan was in a no win situation. He could understand why there were some limitations, but he hated that they all seemed to affect those worst off. And by worst off, he meant people that were in his sort of situation. Hopefully it was not much like his, but enough that things were hard and difficult and not much was ever too clear. Stefan entered the library. it was quiet, for that he was thankful. Stefan wandered around, picking up books and flicking through them. He had grown fond of the library. It was a good place to come if he just wanted to work. And work he did. Since the assignments set took him a lot longer than most, he was there until the curfew most nights and this year, despite the huge improvements he had made over the past years, there was still no deny that Stefan was still very much behind. It had no helped the cut on his hand in the previous year. Now in this one, his arm was bruised and it hurt to breath. His breaths were short and quick. It was odd, but it did at times hurt to breath. He was able to keep it in check when in the classroom, but now he could hear his own breath and it wasn't like most people's. It was just another reminder of where he was from, how his father had complete control over him when he was at home. If it could be called Home. The start of the term was always harder for him than most. And each time he returned his inurigies seemed worse. Whether it was the bruise just below his right elbow, that was dark in colour and hurt at the slightest touch. Or the one on his left shoulder, shaped like a hand from where his father had violently grabbed him, and pulled him, then just carelessly thrown him upon on the floor of the room. they'd been in.
The thoughts of his father and home, had made Stefan unstead of his feet, and he was quick to dump what he was carrying in his arms to the table before collapsing into a chair. He sat for a moment attempting to catch his breath again. Stefan Archer closed his eyes and leaned his head against the books he'd placed carelessly on the table. He was alone in the section which was why, he was acting as such. Had there been people around, Stefan wouldn't found the nearest empty area, and just sat. At least now he had a table to sit at. A wave of tiredness washed over him. He felt himself drift to sleep. One serious side affect of being as thin as he was, was that he was tired, all the time. With so little energy keeping him going and his lack of sleep due to pain and reoccuring nightmares he had no energy to really spare. Which was why hadn't bothered trying to reconnect with his other friends. Primarily Kate, Sara and Willow. It was not because he knew that they knew about him. Just that he had to focus all the energy he did have to his school work. But he missed his friendly greatly. He missed the way Kate smiled, the fact she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He had hated that she'd stopped eating, but even skinny she was beautiful to him. But she was back to her old self, and Stefan was still as skinny. He missed his heart to hearts with Willow. The only person who could understand what it was like to feel rock bottom. While she had less experience, he always liked talking to her. And then there was Sara. A girl he greatly admired. She was strong and she was what he wanted in a family. Ones that cared when the other looked thin. One that would stand by them no matter what. Even though they'd never really seen eye to eye on some things he could hardly deny that he help the situation. He didn't like talking about him, but all three wanted him to. He knew that they were the ones that saw the pain in his eyes with each movement. The ones who realised a boy as skinny as Stefan wasn't just skinny for no reason. But He couldn't keep up with them. School work was enough. Slowly he reopened his eyes and pulled the books in front of him, as well as the parchment to write the essay. Once he had enough information, The slytherin boy began to write. Slow and steady. Taking explicit care as he wrote each letter. Each word. He yawned every so often. But he didn't realise when someone entered the area he was in. Too lost in working, it was pointless to listen to the world around him.
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