Alex Weasley (notyourfred) wrote in breaking_point, @ 2010-11-04 11:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | *complete, 2025 11, character: eileen prince, character: fred alex weasley |
RP: Alex, Eileen
Who: Alex Weasley, Eileen Prince
Where: Great Hall, Hogwarts
When: Dinner, 4 November
Summary: Alex finds out who his friends are. Clearly, nobody here.
He'd nearly made it through the first week, getting by in classes that had started out with primarily theory, using Burke's charm for reading printed text and his dictation-taking quill to review and compile homework. The squeaky voice his wand produced reminded him of the House Elf that cleaned the Ravenclaw common room, and it amused Alex to think of the little elf reading his Charms text aloud over his shoulder.
He'd found all his classes, avoided tipping over the demonstration cauldron, identified a potion by scent. He'd transfigured a peanut into a pearl. He'd been the odd student in Defence when they'd paired off. He'd worried for a moment that this would be the class to break him, but Burke had asked him to help with demonstrations, casting the offensive hexes they'd learned during the siege so that he could demonstrate defences. I can't pair you up with one of them. Your abilities don't match. It had hushed the mutter of voices wondering how the blind kid was going to defend himself against anything...
He could find the Great Hall from anywhere now, without having to turn himself around in his head, and hadn't been late for a meal since lunch the first day. He was, however, glad that Ravenclaw sat at the table along the wall and that seventh-years traditionally sat farthest from the Professors, making a spot at the end of the table easy for even him to find.
Even the House elves seemed to know where he sat now, because after the first meal, food that he liked made its way to his plate as the serving dishes were filled, making it unnecessary for him to ask for things or fumble with serving utensils. And he'd improved with a fork and knife to the point he no longer worried about making a mess of himself or the table while he ate.
Chicken tonight, stuffed with mushrooms and cheese and served with rice. Some sort of sauce. Buttery and rich. Broccoli? or cauliflower. They both felt and tasted much the same. Bread on the small dish beside his plate. Cake and custard. Juice in the goblet. He ate quietly, listening to conversations all around him, but nothing was directed toward him. Chatter about teachers. Excitement about Defence. Sighing girls mourning the absence of Professor Black in Potions.
Alex set his fork carefully on the plate and reached for his juice. Crap... He must have set it farther aside than he'd meant to? He moved his hand slowly, extending his fingers, searching for the cup. The cup that wasn't there. Muffled giggles made their way across the table and he stiffened, curling the searching hand into a fist.
"What's the matter, Weasley? Lose something?"
Alex let out a breath, feeling his face growing warmer.
"Couldn't find your arse with both hands, I'd wager." Another eruption of giggles from across the table, this time accompanied by male laughter.
"Mature, Johnson."
Another chorus of tittering laughter, and a soft mocking echo. Mature, Johnson...
"Stop it!" A hand reached to touch his wrist, and a chilly cup met the backs of his fingers. "Don't pay them any attention." Peterson. Seventh year.
Alex shook his head, reaching for the strap of his bag and sliding off the end of the bench. "It's fine. I was done." He stood, one hand on the table so he could orient himself, and he walked the seven steps to the doorway wondering what it would take to be allowed meals in his room from now on.