...And We Can't Just Go Back?

Alice Longbottom missed her brother. And no, she did not miss seeing him, she missed him being the old Frank. New Frank was too busy for her, too important for her. New Frank was busy saving the world, he barely remembered he had a sister. Even at the battle, he had helped save a girl from the battle, whilst she had been knocked unconscious. He had not even searched for her.

She had sent him some sheet music with her last letter. She hoped it would remind him of the times they had written and played music together. She had been sure they would be the next big thing, a brother sister band. Now she was in the study room amongst working students, finishing up the last of a sketch she wanted to send him, an abstract drawing of a man looking in a mirror to see a frog-man looking back. She had written around the mirror, the word ‘perception’ over and over. Most people thought her art was weird. She wanted Frank to understand.

She was sitting there, carefully erasing stray marks when she heard someone call her name. She looked up to see her dorm mate Carli walking towards her. “Hey Alice, an owl came from you. Ernie told me you were here.” Alice smiled as Carli reached her and held out the scroll. “Thanks Carli. Have you and Casey patched things up yet?” Carli sighed and shook her head. “No. She still thinks it was a spite thing, but I had no idea she liked Ernie. I’ll talk to you later, Alice.”

“Alright, Carli. See you later.”

Carli made her way back through the room and Alice excited looked down at the scroll. The letter from her brother had been about the general ins and outs. She told him she had made some musical friends, and that her professors really liked her, but most importantly, she had informed her that Rise said she did not want to stay with them anymore.

It was not technically a lie.. right?

She opened the scroll, awaiting good wishes, Hogsmeade plans, exclamations of relief, and compliments on the sheet music. What she got was:

What do you mean Rise is not coming back? Did we do something wrong? You didn’t do anything to upset her, did you? Alice, could you please talk to her, I don’t think she’s thinking straight. It’s our job to take care of her. Please get back to me.

She stared. He had not even addressed it, not even signed it. He had not said anything about her. Only Rise. Only his reputation mattered- what would people think if he could not help a student? He would rather Rise be his sister. At least she was normal, made him feel special. She had no personality, so it made him feel better. She needed him and reminded him of it daily. Her weakness strengthened him.

Alice crumpled up the paper and then stared at the picture she had made for him. With a wobble of her chin, she ripped it in half. On the back of one of the halves, she wrote:

Screw you.
Love,
Your ACTUAL sister.

She stared at the paper and then reached into her bag and pulled out a book of sketches. She flipped a few pages and found one of her brother. She began scratching out his face, her chin wobbling, eyes stinging, tears begin to drop from her eyelashes. Suddenly, she gave out. She gave a little cry and flopped her head into her arms, whimpering.

She just did not understand why her brother, her best friend, had just stopped loving her.

Study Rooms. They were never really his favorite places to study, the library was his favorite place to go. But when he had walked into the library, he found that someone had taken his table, and Peter hated change to that degree. That table was his favorite, and now it was taken, it was NEVER taken... Peter couldn't believe it, and had contemplated going back to his dorm to study. But his need to be around people, albeit in an antisocial way, he had decided against it. Instead, he found himself making his way towards the Study Room on the same floor.

Walking into the room, he realized it was a bad mistake to think that any tables would be open. It was packed in there, and it stood, shocked for a long moment in the doorway. He realized people were starting to stare in anger at the light coming through the door and changing the atmosphere, he didn't blame them, he hated when someone changed the lighting in the room he was studying in. He let the door close and he carefully looked around the room, looking for an open spot, he saw one, and realized that the girl sitting at it looked to be in tears. He froze. Tears? They were the worst thing for him to deal with, tears were just.. he didn't know how to handle them, when a girl cried, he got really awkward, not that he wasn't already awkward. But it was one of the only spots in the room where there wasn't a large group talking and comparing notes, so he moved across the room, slouching as normal.

His hands in his pockets, his bag slung over his shoulder, he moved and stood awkwardly next to her table. "Erm.. is anywhere sitting here?" He asked hoping he didn't startle the distraught girl to much.

Alice was considering leaving, but she knew she did have a lot of homework, a lot of homework that she, frankly, did not understand. She understood Potions and she wished she understood Transfiguration... but she could not focus her mind on anything else long enough for it to make sense. And she had a lot due tomorrow, as she had put everything off for tonight. She simply could not let her insensitive brother be the pitfall of her grades.

That was funny. Insensitive. Frank. No one else saw him like that. Then again, no one else had to deal with him as a brother, as flesh and blood. They had not been around him when he had had his first crush, when he had been hormonal and used to cry all the bloody time, when he used to be all dark and emotional and locked himself in his room. Everyone else looked up to Frank without knowing him. She knew him, had looked up to him, and had been let down.. so many times.

Suddenly, though, a voice stirred her from her musings. She glanced up and stared for a second, before wiping her eyes and shaking her head. "Uh, no," she said, moving some of her papers and loose sketches from the other seat at the table. "Sorry... 'bout that," she murmured, moving her things and then offering him a small smile. "Teenage years are fun, eh?" she said awkwardly.

Peter stared at the girl as she lifted her head and wiped her eyes of the tears still clinging to her lashes. "Erm... thanks." He said and sat down carefully, setting his bag on the floor next to his chair, and he looked at her nervously. She moved her things, and he nodded at her carefully, pulling out some books and a roll of parchment with a half written essay already written on it in neat, tidy handwriting. "Erm, yeah, I guess." He said carefully, and pulled out an ink bottle and a plain feather quill, setting out the book and the parchment, pulling the cork off of his ink, and setting his quill in it carefully, making sure not to splatter any of the ink.

"Oh.. I'm Peter." he said glancing up at the girl again, seeing if she was still crying. He didn't know how to handle tears, he had never really had that problem before, sure his twin had cried when they were little, but after Hogwarts started, she had gotten so far attached, that any contact with girls were the dumb ones who needed help on their homework and had heard from a friend that he was good at teaching them the stuff they refused to let into their thick skulls. Ever since he had met a few of those girls, he had pretty much forgotten everything he could about them in an attempt to not get angry. Girls were pretty, he liked to look sometimes, but he had learned a long time ago that the girls in other houses were usually dumb, and the girls in his house were usually bossy and stuck up. So he kept to himself, perfectly content to not stand out, perfectly content to do his homework in peace, and just like every other night, he would do his homework, even if that meant doing his work while sitting in front of a girl who probably would want to speak, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He sat, and Alice knew what she had done wrong- she had let her mask slip. This was all a masquerede and and she had failed and revealed her real face. Well, she could fix that. No one knew about Frank- sure they knew she was Frank's little sister, who had just as much potential but not as much ambition, but they had no idea. And Alice made a decision right then and there- she would keep it that way.

She smiled a softer, gentler smile, one more akin to her usual countenace, one of lofty thoughtfulness, artistic distraction. Her right hand picked up a quill and began moving on its own accord as she used her left to gather her things and tuck them away, reaching into her bag and pulling out her Arithmancy book, the book she dreaded seeing the most.

At his introduction, she smiled, flipping open the book, her hand still working hard on the sketch she was only half paying attention too. "I'm Alice." She glanced back at the book and tried to read, but after awhile, she pulled the drawing closer and added some shading. Her eyes slid over to the book and she continued like this... reading, then absentmindedly drawing some more.

She pulled out a piece of parchment and scrawled the word 'Notes' across the top, but after another thirty seconds she sighed. "It's useless. Remind me again why we even need this subject? Why can't I get it?" she asked, each question slowly said after the other, as though each word was weighed, each word had importance. She picked up the sketch and shook her head, smiling a little. Maybe this was why she never got anything done. She set it aside.

They worked in silence for a long time, the scratching of her quill only a little distracting as she drew and read at the same time. He was working away at his essay, and attempted to let himself be taken in by the sheer mental work. It was a good feeling, albeit different because of the fact that so many more people were there. Suddenly though she let out a sigh and asked a few questions. He glanced up and saw her Arithmancy book sitting next to a paper labeled notes, and a picture of a flower laying next to that, and by the looks of it, it appeared she had been working more on the flower then her notes. "Aritmancy? That's pretty easy.. all it has to do is numbers.. here look." He said and picked up his quill, looking at her and pulling out another sheet of his own parchment. "Here... take the letters of your name... here's mine." He said and wrote down Peter Harrington On the paper. "Now you add up all of the numbers based on that chart in your book okay?" He said smiling at her and pointing at her book. He did a quick bit of math in his head, glancing at her book for the numbers, and then he wrote down three separate numbers.

"This one here is my Character Number, he said and pointed at an 8 that was written after a long line of calculations he had done, and this one is my heart." He pointed at another 8. "And my Social." He said and pointed at a nine. "Now you take these, and pick them out from your book." he said looking up at her and suddenly getting shy again. "Of course.. I'm sure you learned that early in class.. what are you working on? I mean... look at mine.. I'm an 8 for my character... it says.. I'm... Ambitious, and political.. and I have been either wanting to be a teacher, or a worker in the wizangamot for a long time." he said and flushed red, before looking down at his paper again. "What... what have you been working on in class? Just reading.. or.. essays?" He asked suddenly staring at his book and feeling his neck get red.

Alice glanced up, looking sort of surprised, as though she had not meant to speak her thoughts aloud or she had not expected him to listen or respond. She had not really meant to trouble him anymore- she had already sensed she had frazzled him in some way. No one liked to deal with a hormonal girl, and the shyer ones were always a little off put. So she did not want to tax him anymore than she already had that day.

But, she could not deny, she was struggling, and she could not be sure, but she thought that Peter might be a Ravenclaw. She was not sure if this was simply her impression of him, or if she had perhaps seen him at the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall. She did not know, but her mind was slowly fixating on the fact that he was a Ravenclaw and, therefore, must be able to help her.

He began to explain and she felt that pleasant buzzing feeling overtaking her as she listened to the foreign words, and she began to find lyrics forming instead, markings on a staff more at hand then numbers. She shook her head. "I guess I get it, my head's just somewhere else." She glanced over at the sketch as though it were evidence and sighed again. "We're just reading and writing notes and whatnot. Not an essay yet."

Peter couldn't help but smile slightly at her complete lack of interest in what she was asking. He realized she hadn't actually expected him to answer, and he couldn't help but flush again, looking down at the drawing. "It's very pretty." He said carefully, running his hand through his hair and causing it to stick straight upwards, before he flushed red again and stared at his book. When she spoke about not having an essay yet, he glanced up at her. "It's not that difficult a subject actually." He said carefully, letting his quill drop back into his ink well and he stretched up, working the kinks out of his constantly hunched back, the back that was only ever up and straight when he was either in class, or out on his broomstick. He glanced out the window and half longed he could go outside, but knew he'd rather stay in here, Quidditch was what he did in the morning on weekends when no one was out there, not when anyone could walk up and see him. He'd have to wait until the weekend.

"Well.. erm, I guess if you ever need help." he said glancing up at her and running his hand through his hair again. "I offer to help people with homework.. I erm.. don't have anything better to do." He shrugged and glanced down at his book again. He knew he needed to take a break anyway, not that he usually spent it talking to people, a break to him usually meant picking up a different textbook, or a fictional book and sitting by the fire in the Ravenclaw tower. He tugged at his tie and stared down at his book again, it was uncomfortably hot in the crowded room and he wanted nothing better then to get up and open the window, but it looked windy out, and he knew if he did every paper in the room would scatter, and then he'd be in trouble. Maybe he would take a jog outside before curfew, it wasn't to late yet, and he could get out there and get some fresh air before he went to bed. He found his eyes slowly drawn back to Alice though, and he smiled crookedly. "So erm.. is it to forward to ask.. and erm.. you don't have to answer if you don't want to.." he said running his hand through his hair again, watching her for her reactions. "But.. why were you crying earlier?"

Alice tilted her head, viewing her sketch from another angle. She typically did not go for such... normal motives, with her drawings. They were typically abstract and strange and made absolutely no sense, but done without her mind thoroughly thrown in... "Yeah?" she asked absent mindedly. "It's about the only thing I can do right," she said modestly, looking up to smile at him, to see he had flushed. She wondered whatever for.

Peter continued on, saying it was not difficult. "I suppose I'd be better if I cared about it, huh?" she said, chuckling slightly. He continued on and she looked up at him, noticing that this awkward, uncertainty in his voice just seemed to be apart of his character. He still looked flushed as well. "Careful before you offer," she warned. "You may never get rid of me, at this rate." She smiled.

She glanced back down at the sketch and realized she was not happy with it, but she did not have the will to work on it. She could not sign it either- it was not done. She slipped it into her folder. He then addressed the circumstances of their meeting and she shrugged, looking away. "Oh... family issues. You know.. Brothers being.. obstinate. That's all."

Peter stared at the picture she had and looked back up at her, running his hand through his hair. "I can't draw at all, so yeah.. it's nice." He said putting on a lopsided smile. "I'm sure you're great at other things..." he said easily, before he realized what he said and quickly started to shuffle pieces of parchment around, as though searching for the right one, attempting to hide his lapse in thought as he had spoken. It was all to weird, he wasn't used to people speaking to him, and when she looked up at him he felt his heart beat faster, why? Because people didn't look at him much either, when they spoke to him, they were usually staring at a piece of parchment, or not paying attention, and whenever someone's eyes landed on his, he felt a jolt in his heart, and he immediately started to think of his sister, which made him feel extremely lonely, and he had to look away again.

"Yes.. I suppose a level of interest is required in order to make things more simple." he said glancing at her, and setting his papers down, pulling his wand out of his bag, he waved it over his parchment to dry the ink, and quickly rolled it up, tapping it to seal it before he put it back into his bag and pulled out another book in which he had a couple of chapters to read. When she said he might never get rid of her, he couldn't help but get redder around his ears, opening his book and staring down at it. "I see people quite often actually you'd be surprised, people need help with homework from the first day of school... usually I only have Saturdays off when I'm not doing work, or helping someone else with theirs.." he said staring at his book, and flipping the pages to find the right ones he needed to read.

"Family issues... I wish I had those again." He couldn't help it, but an edge had crawled into his voice, and his gaze grew dark as he came to the pages he wanted to read, and found he couldn't concentrate on them now. "I'm sure whatever your brother is doing isn't as bad as you are making it out to be.. often times siblings tend to romanticize their feelings towards each other, make them out to be a bigger deal then they are.. sometimes it's true, but in the end you have to go back to that person's base personality, look at the world as they see it, think about what they must be thinking of, and put yourself in their shoes." He said, speaking from experience. It had taken a long time for him to come to this realization, and stop hating his sister for leaving him. But after he had, he was able to forgive her again, even if it was a bit reluctantly. She had thought she was doing the right thing, and he understood that, he just wished she would owl him sometimes. "The reason we tend to hate siblings so much is because we have to put up with their personalities, without our choice, sometimes the personalities are compatible, and the two become friends easily, but sometimes they just don't slide along well together, and they hate each other." He glanced up at her again, and then shut his book, pulling out another piece of parchment.

"I'm sure whatever your brother has done wrong, he's done for a reason that makes sense to himself... or he acted rashly, or in some cases he's simply being a git.. but I like to think that everyone deserves more then a second chance... some people deserve only one chance... but most people deserve for everyone to look at them, and ask themselves why they are the way they are... and why it is bothering us, only then, when we've identified the real problem, can we expect to find a solution." He said and then looked up realizing how much he had spoken. "Sorry.. I spoke to much." He flushed redder, and started to scribble things down on his parchment, not paying attention to what he was writing, but knowing he was getting the answers right anyway.