We Can't Wake Up

By the end of the first week, the talk of Percy Houston died down. Everyone’s attention was focussed on the exams that they would be taking at the end of the term. The nervousness was already building even though the exams were still weeks away.

Marcus could feel a certain desperation building inside of him. He adamantly refused that this was due to the fact that he was never able to find Anne alone. She was always flanked by at least three of her friends. They watched over her constantly as if they were afraid she would be the next one to be killed.

Thankfully for Marcus he was naturally intelligent and didn’t have to listen in class because his entire attention was on Anne. In every class that they had together he would watch her. Watch how she twirled her hair when she was thinking and tapped her fingers on the desk when she was nervous. He learnt how she wrote in perfect neat script, never spilling a drop of ink or creating a blob when she pressed the quill too hard against the parchment.

It was intoxicating to watch her. Marcus couldn’t think of anything else as soon as his gaze was upon her.

“You coming to Hogsmeade tomorrow Marcus?” Richard asked as they walked along beside the lake. Arnold picked up a stone a skipped it across the smooth surface. The ripples spread far before they were sucked back in to the glassy water.

“There is a trip?” Marcus asked in a bored tone.

“Yeah, its only recently been announced tough,” In truth it had been announced at the end of the first week, but Richard and Arnold could tell that something was up with Marcus and they wanted to know how much he had been paying attention.

“There is a new store that has opened,” Arnold spoke, “Apparently it is quite good.”

Marcus nodded and said nothing. Richard and Arnold took this for assent and they too ceased the conversation.

The next morning all the students nearly ran out of the school gates towards the little village. Their excitement was tangible as they hurried along the dirty track. Marcus walked slowly, surrounded by Slytherins who would follow him anywhere.

When they finally approached Hogsmeade however, the large group disbanded, leaving only Richard and Arnold with Marcus.

“How about we go in there?” Richard suggested pointing towards the Hogs Head. They walked in and sat at the booth in the corner.

It wasn’t long before other students piled into the old building. They sat down and talked noisily as they ate and drank.

“I’m going for a walk,” Marcus said quietly. Richard and Arnold knew better than to follow him, so they stayed in the Hogs Head whilst Marcus walked out into the open air. He walked away from the village towards the Shrieking Shack.

It was a very old building, apparently having been there since Harry Potter’s father was at school. Marcus sighed and frowned as he sat on the ground and leant against a big boulder.

The sky overhead was beginning to become populated by grey clouds, a chill wind whistled through the trees and ruffled Marcus’ hair.

He didn’t even notice when someone sat down beside him. He only had to glance at their hands to know that it was Anne.

“Marcus,” she spoke quietly, her voice quavering slightly.

Marcus turned to look at her; her eyes were wet with tears and she was biting her lower lip hard. “Yes, Anne,” he also spoke quietly, barely above a whisper.

Anne smiled slightly and turned her head to look at the Shack infront of them. Marcus continued to stare, transfixed. He was completely mesmerized by the way her hair shifted in the breeze, they way a tiny tear slipped gently down her cheek.

His hand shot out and caught the tear before it dropped off her chin. Anne turned back to stare at him as he wiped the salty water on his jeans. They sat in silence, watching the other for ten minutes before Marcus looked away again. He couldn’t stand the intensity of her gaze, it were as if she were trying to look right through him, to work out the inner maze of his mind.

Her hand crept along his leg until she found his hand. She picked it up and entwined her fingers with his. He stared at their different skin tones; her perfect olive skin and his alabaster pale. They looked so different, as if they could never coexist.