Michael Corner (folkdevil) wrote in caged, @ 2013-09-21 15:12:00 |
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It had been a nice day, sun high in the sky with only a faint autumnal chill in the air and Lydia had decided to take advantage of the weather, shoving books and parchment into her bag and heading out to the grounds to study in the fresh air. It had been nice to spend some time by herself and she’d lost track of time a little: she’d missed the day moving into late afternoon, the way the air took on an extra bite. It wasn’t even that the material she was studying was that interesting, Lydia just had a habit of getting wrapped up in the task at hand. Lifting her head from her notes, Lydia noticed the sky was a shade darker than she’d like and started shoving her notes back into her bag, scrambling to her feet and walking across the grounds back towards the castle. She was humming to herself softly, using one of the song’s Megan had told her they were going to be doing in choir, and adjusting the strap on her bag when she spotted someone not far in front of her. Lydia stopped humming and tried to sneak a glance at who the other person was: it didn’t take long to realise that it was Michael Corner, the seventh year Ravenclaw. Lydia stopped walking as quickly, noticeably slowing down. Ever since Susan had told her that one of Michael’s parents was in Azkaban, Lydia’s curiosity had flared. Susan had also said not to bring it up to Michael and Lydia completely understood why -- in truth, it probably wasn’t her business. Still, the Potterwatch broadcast and the Quibbler article had left her with more questions. She shouldn’t say anything. She knew that. She really, really did and, yet, Lydia found herself stopping just short of Michael anyway. One hand still clutching the strap of her bag, Lydia smiled and said, “Hi.” She paused for a second and then, unsure, added, “I’m Lydia. Um, I wondering if I could ask you a question.” Mostly, Michael had been putting off going back in the castle. He figured he ought to enjoy going out on the grounds while he still could. He wasn’t sure how long that would really last, both because of the weather and because of the Carrows. Banning them from fresh air seemed like the sort of thing they’d do. He was trying to convince himself to go back inside when someone stopped nearby. “Hey, Lydia. I know who you are.” It was a small school, after all, so while he didn’t exactly know Lydia well by any means, he generally thought he knew who most people were. He didn’t really have any clue why she was stopping to talk to him though, and he raised an eyebrow while he considered her before shrugging. “Sure. Ask away.” Toying with the strap of her bag, Lydia bit down on her bottom lip and looked at Michael for a second, before glancing away. She scanned the middle distance, taking in the distant shape of students bustling about in the courtyard. Mostly, she didn’t want people to be around to hear this: she’d mentioned it to Lilith and Lance, but she trusted them. She had a feeling this wasn’t the thing that Michael was going around telling everyone. Someone would have brought it up on the journal network already, if that was the case. Shifting her gaze back to Michael, she smiled in a way she hoped was reassuring. Lydia suddenly regretted coming over, but she had to ask and so she opened her mouth and said, “I’m really sorry about this, but I heard that one of your parents was a Muggleborn and that -- that they were in Azkaban. Is it true?” Lydia didn’t doubt it was true: Susan had told her and she trusted Susan entirely. She knew that she wouldn’t lie to her about this, but Lydia figured it would be best to ask first. If he said no, at least one of them could always bolt. Maybe Michael should have expected that. It wasn’t the first out of the blue question he’d had about his father being in Azkaban, but still, he felt blindsided every. single. time. Enough that he wondered who it was that was telling everyone this information, but he supposed secrets didn’t stay secrets for long. Still, the gossip train was apparently getting ridiculous. Staring at Lydia for a moment, Michael ran a hand through his hair before sighing. “Yeah, it’s true.” He wasn’t exactly mad that she was asking but he felt a little weird. Uncomfortable, maybe? It was a weird topic to talk about with people he didn’t really know well. Or even people that he did. “Do you want to know anything else?” Lydia had expected an awkward silence, really -- or maybe she had expected shouting or running off. Or maybe a bit of everything, all rolled into one. She’d considered asking Michael about this a few times already, had run down what she thought would happen in various different scenarios, so she thought she could handle this. Still, she couldn’t help that she looked a bit wary, uncertainty and awkwardness settling around her shoulders like a shrug. She nodded when Michael spoke, barely restraining herself from saying ‘thank you.’ That probably wasn’t an appropriate response. “I just -- I guess I wanted to know why he’s there. Apart from the muggleborn thing.” She paused and licked her lips, looking at Michael for a second before shrugging. “You don’t actually have to tell me anything. I know I’m being nosy and that it’s not my business and it’s really okay if you’d rather not tell me.” “Well, the muggleborn thing is enough, but. Can I ask why you’re asking?” That probably would make a difference as to whether Michael would talk about it. Not that he really wanted to. Mostly he just wanted to bury his head in the ground and pretend that none of this was happening, but the world was a bit beyond that at this point. Which he knew. Mostly he still just felt incredibly uncomfortable. For a moment, Lydia debated dropping it and moving away. It was abundantly clear that this wasn’t the kind of conversation that people actually wanted to have and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Michael probably wasn’t completely all right with it taking place. She could just stop talking, but that seemed somehow more awkward, so she didn’t. She debated lying, as well, but discarded the idea. She couldn’t tell the whole truth -- that she was helping protect a muggleborn and it had led to her being absolutely hell bent on collecting all information she could about what was happening to them -- but something close to it. She pulled a face and said, “I have a friend. I’m just trying to figure out what might happen to him. Might have happened to him.” There was a long silence while Michael considered her. He didn’t actually want to have this conversation. That was really the only thought he kept having. But she also seemed genuine enough. And by talking about it he was at least spreading some truth about. That was good, wasn’t it? “Do you want to sit? You’re awkwardly hovering,” he asked, nodding slightly to the space next to him. The silence had dragged on enough that Lydia had started playing with the strap of her bag again, tugging it across her chest and resisting the urge to start shuffling her feet. She felt like she was being scrutinised, which made sense but also made her a little uncomfortable. Lydia didn’t really know Michael and she’d never been that great with scrutiny, anyway. When he asked her to sit down it felt like a weight of her shoulders and Lydia’s shoulders relaxed a bit. She nodded and sat down, dropping her bag down beside her and looping her arms around the top of her knees. Slanting a glance at Michael, she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hover.” “It’s fine, I just thought it would be a little more comfortable this way? Not that there’s that much to say, I guess.” Michael shrugged then because he didn’t actually know how to start talking about these things. “I think being a muggleborn is enough. But he, it’s my Dad, he decided to try and forge his papers because he’s an idiot, so that’s probably why it’s Azkaban rather than, I don’t know, just being a Wandless,” he said, actively trying to keep his tone neutral and probably not quite succeeding as well as he’d like. It was hard to talk about. “I mean, I don’t really know what determines one over the other, but I’m pretty sure nothing good or even humane happens to anyone,” Michael hesitated before adding, “I’m sorry, this isn’t really comforting.” Lydia deliberately avoided looking at Michael while he was talking. She didn’t know if he’d mind, exactly, but she’d always preferred it and she figured it was a courtesy she could afford him when he was being nice enough to actually answer her questions. She didn’t try to ask more questions as he spoke, just quietly sat and tried to take in what he was saying. When he mentioned forged papers, Lydia broke her own rule, looking at him with a horrified expression which she quickly tried to shut down. She turned her head away, looked out at the grounds and told herself to breathe. She knew that such things probably happened: it wasn’t a massive leap of logic, it made sense but that didn’t mean she’d ever been confronted with evidence that it had actually happened before. Lydia pressed her lips together, tried not to tense up and reminded herself that this wasn’t a secret that was hers and hers alone. She had to be good at hiding it. She focused on what Michael was saying again, trying to pretend that she hadn’t broken out in a cold sweat. “You don’t have to say sorry for not being comforting,” she said, frowning a little. “It’s not -- I didn’t want comfort. I just wanted to know.” Lydia reached down, tugging at blades of grass and uprooting them as she thought about what she was going to say next. “I’m sorry it happened at all. How did they catch him? Faking his papers, I mean.” “He went in to the MRC and I guess his papers just weren’t good enough. I, well, I wasn’t there so I don’t know all the details and most of what I could get out of my mum was that it didn’t go well and, you know, Azkaban, but…” Michael trailed off for a moment, looking down at his hands as he picked off some invisible lint from his trousers. He felt a little fidgety. “I’m sorry about your friend.” Lydia chewed on the bottom of her lip, turning over what she should do next in her head. Michael clearly didn’t know the details that Lydia wanted to know -- how did the MRC figure it out, what sort of details did they look for, what did she need to know so they could help someone else do it better. She felt selfish for the thought, when Michael’s dad had obviously did the best he could in the time and ended up in Azkaban anyway. And then he mentioned being sorry for her friend and Lydia felt her heart clenching, in sympathy and a little guilt. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, Lydia looked at Michael again and then, hesitantly, extended her arm. It was a brief sympathetic touch of the shoulder -- she didn’t really know him and even that seemed a little presumptuous, but Lydia did it anyway. “I’m sorry about your dad. I won’t tell everyone, though. Thank you for telling me.” Michael just didn’t know what to say. The topic brought up a lot of emotions for him and most of them weren’t ones he wanted to really show to people he knew and trusted, let alone someone he didn’t particularly know. He felt a little awkward and while he didn’t exactly mind the sympathetic gesture, it still made him a touch uncomfortable. It all did. “Thanks,” he said finally. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell everyone. I mean.” Michael was starting to wonder if maybe it was something that he ought to talk about, to offer to the masses as proof that the Ministry was fucked, but he wasn’t there yet, and it was his story to tell if he chose to tell it at all. “I’d just appreciate it. I’m sorry I wasn’t more help with details.” “That’s okay,” Lydia said, wrinkling her nose a little, although the expression wasn’t aimed at Michael or what he’d said. “I mostly just wanted to know why, I guess the details don’t really matter, when it comes down to it. You don’t need to apologise for it or anything.” Inhaling deeply, Lydia tried to ignore that the nerves which had niggling away ever since Michael had mentioned forged papers. She twisted and lifted her bag into her lap, smiling a little wanly. “I promise I won’t go around telling everyone,” she said again. “Not really my thing to tell anyway.” With that said, she stood and headed back towards the castle, pausing only to brush some grass off her skirt. |