If You've Got the Nerve

I tapped my fingers on the table in an erratic pattern. The constant noise did little to calm my anxious nerves. A small, thin, and worn piece of parchment sat folded in front of me as if it had never been opened. When I had folded the note back up after reading the contents, I had been careful not to create any more crease marks than it already held. Next to me, in a crumpled mess, sat the brown wrapping of the package that I has received that morning along with the string that had stopped the item from spilling out as it had when Ginny and I had pulled the wrappings apart. Behind me, I knew the beautiful present I had received sat patiently on the small couch.

The gift, sent by my mother with a very sweet but short letter attached, was almost as nerve wracking as the letter in front of me and the bit of jewelry strapped around my thin wrist. My mother had sent me beautiful, flowing robes of black that looked and felt suspiciously like fine silk. The outfit was layered with different lengths of varying shades of black and emerald green, some solid, some almost transparent. It was a simple but gorgeous thing that caused my girl instincts to spark in excitement.

What grated at my nerves was the short letter that explained the piece’s origin. Of the few lines that had been scrawled, one still echoed in my head clearly: It belonged to your sister. That explained the green and black theme of the robes. After all, my older sister had been one of the brightest girls to grace the dingy dungeon halls winding towards the Slytherin common room.

I ceased my tapping and pulled my hand back towards me with the second note – the one that had accompanied my new piece of jewelry – clutched lightly in it. Unfolding it as carefully as if it was made of thin glass, I braced myself to read the words again, all the way through this time.

Nox –

I know you’re probably going to be expecting a big huge letter to go along with your coming of age birthday gift, but speeches, oral or written, were never my style. Anyway, I figure I can gush out my love for you any time I want. After all, it’s my job as your older sister to embarrass you, right? By now, you probably won’t even remember all the times I read you bedtime stories until midnight, but maybe this will jog your memory some. It’s a reminder of your favorite story. When you were little you would love when I read it for you and you cried for days when our book containing it perished in that fire at our first house. You were barely a year old, but you understood that it was gone. But it didn't matter, because I had it memorized for you. Now the only thing we’ve got to live through is your final year of school and your wedding. Pick a good one, eh? No troublemakers. Happy birthday, Annie.

Love,
Alexxia

The paper was folded once more. My lips were in a tight line. I suddenly realized just how wrong it felt to read the letter. I had yet to turn of age and, suddenly, I was reminded how I had skipped my annual trip to the cemetery before school so that I could attend the World Cup. Hot guilt filled my stomach until I felt I was going to be sick.

Thinking it best to move my location upstairs where I was less likely to be bothered by the social butterflies of the house, I stood and retrieved the delicate robes from their place. I left the wrappings in their scattered spot on the common room floor. My mind was much more focused on getting me up the steps that led me to my warm, oversized bed.

It wasn’t until I had carefully folded and put away the silk robes in my trunk that I remembered the letter. My hands groped the insides of my pockets for a few seconds before I groaned and made my way, reluctantly, back down the long staircase.

I was surprised to see the common room was no longer empty when I stepped down from the last step. A few night owls were huddled around games of Exploding Snaps while another handful of procrastinators were bent over parchment until their noses threatened to smudge the freshly scrawled essays. Lee Jordan sat on the floor by the fireplace, papers and books spread out before him with one hand haphazardly taking notes.

I smiled lightly, my slightly panicking heart calming as I spotted the gently folded letter sitting where I had left it on the table, inches from one of Lee’s books. I dropped down on the couch opposite Lee, grabbing the letter and tucking it snuggly in one of my pockets. Lee didn’t look up from his work, so I lifted my leg high enough to nudge the corner of the book he was currently reading. He glanced up with a small smile as acknowledgment. I gave him my own tired smile in return.

“Where are the weasels?” I asked after a long pause in which I was sure Lee wasn’t going to start a conversation.

He shrugged his shoulders, pausing to read another passage and scrawl out a definition. “Last I saw, they were discussing something that included the words ‘explosion’ and ‘Snape’.” I let out a laugh at that. At least they seemed to be losing interest in the tournament, even if it was just slightly.

My brow furrowed, a thought suddenly coming to mind. I watched Lee carefully for another minute or two before sucking in a breath and diving forward without a second thought of the consequences to come.

“Lee, can I ask you a question without you going mental on me?” he laughed shortly, but nodded when I kept silent, conveying that it wasn’t a joke.

He looked up from his notes, “Of course you can,” I met his gaze steadily for a moment before dropping it to stare at the table. After another silence, the scratching of his quill began anew.

With one more breath, I continued with the question, “Well, it may sound like a stupid question considering the circumstances, but I was just wondering if…if you knew if Fred actually does…fancy Angelina…”

At first, I thought he hadn’t heard me as my voice had slowly lowered of its own accord, fear of someone overhearing prickling at the back of my mind like a weak and cruel tickling charm. But I soon noticed that his hand had slowed in its writing and the letters were becoming slightly less sloppy.

Hurrying to vanquish any suspicion I’d raised in my friend’s mind, I pushed forward recklessly, “I mean I know he’s asked her to the ball and everything, but, let’s face it, this is Fred we’re talking about. I don’t know what that moron will do next and it would be just his style to ask someone like her to a ball if it meant he would have a date and they would listen to him ramble on and on about Quidditch. I mean, he can go on forever about the bloody thing. I really don’t get what he find so fascinating. All you’re doing is throwing a ball back and forth and – Lee!”

Lee’s hand had suddenly slipped, a thick black line cutting through all of his notes, his writing hand knocking loudly against the glass ink bottle. Black splashed across parchment and books. In the back of my mind, I was happy to have already tucked away my sister’s letter.

“Are you okay?” I jumped from the couch to kneel next to the table, quickly gathering the clean but soon to be damaged books in my arms. Lee was scrambling even more frantically then me, cleaning as much ink as he could with his wand. But his mind seemed far from the mess in front of us.

“Nox, why are you asking me that? I don’t know what goes through his head!” He sounded panicked and – I noticed with a twinge of guilt – slightly mad.

“I – I was just…you know…asking as a friend…curiosity…” my answer was weak, and, as he looked up at me again, I knew that we both understood just how rubbish it was.

“If you want to know who he fancies out of curiosity, ask Fred not me!”

“I’m sorry! I just – I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what I was apologizing for, but the look in his eyes gave me the impression that I’d upset him.

“Don’t apologize,” he sighed, dropping his wand to the table and rubbing his face. “You were just curious,” I looked up from my staring contest with the plush carpeting. He gave me a smile that I returned with only a small hesitation. “As for answering your question,” he held out his hands in front of me. I stared at them in confusion before realizing I was still holding his books. Flushing slightly, I handed them over as quickly as I could. He smiled in thanks before bending to shove them in his bag along with his other things. “I don’t know who he fancies…” he struggled with a strap on the bag for a moment before pulling so tightly I was afraid it would snap. “Maybe it is Angelina, or maybe it’s someone else. You’ll have to ask him, Nox.” He flung his bag over one shoulder, waved goodnight, and then hurried up the stairs leading to the boys’ dormitory.

I glowered at the place that he had just left. His last sentence had sounded so much like my father and George combined that it made me want to throw his empty ink bottle at him.

“You didn’t ask him, Nox. Ask him, Nox.” I mocked on my way up to my own dormitory. A girl passing me gave me a strange look, but I ignored it, casting her a look that had her scampering down the last few steps.

All I wanted was to collapse in bed and be told that this whole school year was a dream. But the metal poking into my wrist as I lay in bed was a constant reminder: You’re wide awake.