Self Induced Time Out

Lily would not admit that the feeling boiling inside of her was shame. She was much too proud, much too adament that her choices were unchangeable. She had been the one to decide that Hogwarts just wasn't happening, and she needed to stand by it. No one else was to blame for her current misfortune, so she had to act as though her current situation was exactly what she wanted, as though she was pleased. As though her pride did not writhe and cringe at the thought of being couped up at that school for another year with those people for her company. She felt as though she had outgrown her peer group when she had gone to Salem's, two years ago, and now she was in a year with people even younger, even more immature.

She knew this was a horrifically arrogant, superior way to think. Oh well.

Nevertheless, there was only so much pretending she could do. She could only keep a straight face for so long before tears welled, before hands shook, before anger and self disgust boiled over. There was only so much acting as though she were content with this shit. That was the problem. Lily was a proud, intelligent woman. And she had to go on acting like she was okay being a burnt out, ignorant, drop out with no ambitions and little hope for the future. It was hard being pleased with the very life you had always feared for yourself.

She had finally left. Her brothers, cousin, and adopted brother had told her they did not want her leaving, but she had. Not to be rebellious - though they would surely assume that was the motivation, and she would adopt the reasoning in order to avoid being honest, as usualy - but to escape her prison. Staying at home gave her too much time to think, too much time to mull, too much time to feel. She needed to stop it all.

She went to the Garden of Solace, because who could say she was having fun at a memorial site? She sat against the gazebo in the grass, stick-like legs straght out beneath her, a cigarette perched on her lips. Her head was tipped back, sunglasses shielding her from the sun. She was exhausted, and she needed just a few hours of safety from the world.

It wouldn’t be the first time that Darren had found himself far away from his home on what most would consider a school day. He had trouble sitting still, regardless of the fact that he often preferred to stay at home. Now that his exam week had ended, homework was back at its normal level and he found himself with far too much time on his hands. Rather than heading off to one of his typical haunts, Darren thought back to his years at Hogwarts, when he was more likely to avoid the halls of the castle and more likely to wander off on the weekends when allowed. The most relaxing place he had found, and thus the place he found was the best for thinking, was his destination that afternoon.

Ambling into the garden, Darren found himself glancing around absently, only half wondering after his Psychology essay which would be due at the start of the next week. At first glance, the area seemed empty, but upon taking more time to peer around, he spotted someone relaxing by the gazebo. Odd, he mused, that anyone would be there when it was usually empty. In a move that probably appeared impulsive but was actually calculated to hopefully gain a response from the girl in question, Darren made his way over and flopped down beside her.

Although he usually would be annoyed at the idea of grass stains or anything along those lines, Darren could not turn down the opportunity to get a reaction from her. She looked oddly familiar, though he could hardly try and place her. Throughout Hogwarts, he had met many people he no longer could address by name, as his focus has almost entirely been on his school work; true, he kept a few people he dared call friends, but few others would be spoken to on sight. This girl, however, was no exception. She was merely someone who could interest him if she reacted as he expected.

“Afternoon,” he drawled, tilting his head to redirect his hair away from his eyes. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” Darren added with a too-large smile, though anyone who knew him could note the false delight in his eyes. In truth, he missed the colder days when his coats were more likely to appear normal and he could get away with scarves and the like without being judged. But a bit of sun never hurt anyone, he supposed.

Ignoring the slight squinting of his eyes, Darren watched the girl regardless of the fact that she could see him even if he couldn’t see her eyes on him in return.

During her time running around - completely adverse to be a responsible, maturing adult - Lily had met a lot of people, and she had learned the multiple ways one might meet new people. She had met people in bars, in alleys, in the shrieking shack, before and after drug deals, and in other less-than-perfect, less-than-legitimate situations. In simple terms, Lily had become well accustomed to introductions and new meetings. She knew not to show all your cards, and she knew to escape if you figured out within the first few minutes that your company was either unpleasant or dangerous.

So no fear took place in her heart as she felt the approach of a stranger. Her eyes remained closed beneath her sunglasses, her head remained pointed to the sky. The only change she made was to take a final puff on her almost finished cigarette. Lily reached up and plucked it from her lips, before snubbing the end of it out on her knee, burning yet another hole in her already thrashed jeans. Most of her clothes were in horrid states now from the month she had been absent. No cleaning, no mending, and now most of her clothes were grungy, ripped, and holey. Ah well. Somehow it suited her.

She expected the person, whoever it was, to recognize her. To call her by name, ask why she wasn’t in school, ask after her family, the usual. And if they did not recognize her, she expected to be asked out for a pint – because she had learned she was a magnet for creepy older men who did not seem to mind looking desperate in chasing girls who ought not to know better. Lily did, though. Not from too much experience either. Teddy said it was because she naturally had a distrusting and cynical view of human nature. He had never said it as a compliment either.

This person, however, broke the established pattern. Still, Lily did not look at him, nor did she open her eyes. He gave her the time of day. “Is it?” she said, sounding cryptic, when really she had not realized she had been out for so long. She had come well before noon. But she had stayed a long time, soaking in sunlight, inhaling nicotine, trying to do anything but be Lily Potter. This man was a lovely reminder that it was not in the cards for her to just cease to exist, however, and she would have to live another day running away from this horrible burden of identity.

“It’s a day, certainly,” she said, trying to keep the heaviness out of the statement. “Warm. Bright. No longer singular.” There she was, pulling that whole cryptic shtick again. She tried to shake herself out of it, and reached her hand across her body and towards the man. “Lily Potter,” the surname came out, unfortunately, and she bit the last part of the word, as though hoping she could inhale it back inside of herself. Unfortunately, the damage was done. She was a Potter again.

Darren obviously took pride in being able to predict the reactions of those he purposefully bothered. He was of the impression that he could figure someone out from a few looks or a few minutes observing. It was rare that he found someone like this girl, who didn’t snap when he expected her to. Who didn’t roll her eyes when he spoke of the weather. Either she was exceedingly bored, or even more unlikely to get excited about things than he was. True, Darren was particularly excitable. But only about ideas of his own or those of his friends – of which there were few.

Actually, he didn’t have friends. He only had two.

One friend who kept him in line, and another – to which, in truth, he was closer – that worked him up into his stupid ideas. Who dared him into experiments and kept life interesting. The latter also happened to be a werewolf, and a particularly ridiculous one at that. They made quite the pair, if Darren had to say so himself.

The girl’s reply caught his attention, causing a furrowed brow to find its way onto his face. She continued and Darren could barely hide his amusement, if he managed it at all. He couldn’t be sure, considering he was about to answer when she extended a hand towards him. Potter. Ah. Well that made things even more interesting. The whole family seemed to have a rough lot, as far as he knew, but this one seemed pretty calm. He looked at her hand for a moment before extending his own to shake hers.

He wanted to say something along the lines of Interesting. But he refrained, luckily. Instead, he just introduced himself. “Darren Isaacson.”

Only moments later, he found himself unable to keep quiet. Her cynicism was amazing, he mused, but extremely interesting. And things that interested Darren always made him talk. “Curious that you’re out here, in a fairly lovely area, on a day that you do not find worth appreciating… That either means that you’re excessively bored… or you’re avoiding something. Both of which are interesting options.” Tilting his head to the side, his eyes traced her face, trying to take in anything he could that would point to which was true.

She placed her hand in his, but offered no pressure, no movement. It sat there, like a tired creature seeking rest during the calm after a storm. There would be a time for more pain later, surely, and the prior struggle had destroyed all energy, but for now… there was just the comfort of another thing that had survived the destruction. After a moment, Lily withdrew her hand and folded it between her knees, tucking it safely away.

He gave her his own name, one that sounded vaguely familiar, but not enough to actually mean anything. That meant she had probably heard his name in the halls of Hogwarts at some point. Lily was not one of those who became impassioned by circumstances that traced back to her years of schooling. She went to school so she could get out of school. And when she had stopped caring about the pointless ritual of graduation and emergence into the ‘real world’, she had stopped going. It really was that simple. No planned act of rebellion. She had just run out of f*cks to give.

He spoke and Lily’s heavy eyelids fell over her deep pools of brown. A sigh escaped her lips, and on the sigh rode the words, “You’re one of those people.” He was one of those horribly optimistic people that thought there was meaning in everything, that everything had layers, that everything could be peeled back to reveal the essence of life, the truth of love, the shades of beauty. In simple terms, he was yet another fool.

She nodded her head from left to right, falling into a rhythm or sorts. “There is no deep meaning at play here,” she warned. “It’s not boredom. It’s not the act of escape. What your are witnessing is the act of whole indifference. Which I would argue, Mr Isaacson, is the very antithesis of interesting. So if interesting is what you are looking for, I’d try window shopping in the village. You’ll get more results there, I’m certain. Have a good day.”

Lily Potter was an absolute ray of sunshine.

His grin expanded when she spoke, head falling back slightly as he tilted it to look at her again. Strangely enough, those who were adverse to his efforts merely made him try harder. Or maybe it wasn’t so strange. Half the time he got people who would laugh, the other half he got the interesting sort who would get irritated with him. Lily was clearly the second sort of people, if there were only two.

“No, no.” Darren started quickly, turning his body so he sat facing her properly. “You won’t get rid of me that easily. And it would do to call me Darren, as it is my first name, and you know it. Thus, you’re entitled to use it. Generally, those who are entitled choose to use the names, and those who gave the option generally appreciate it.”

He hadn’t intended to speak in the way he could around Kip or even Ariel (though the latter rarely seemed to follow along, seemingly preferring to just zone his friend out). Checking himself, Darren paused briefly, trying to remind himself that he ought not talk that way around people in general. Psychology student or not, he did not typically make friends with phrasing his speech in that way.

Pondering more properly over her words, he reached a hand up absently to push his hair out of his eyes. “Indifference… Hmm. That actually is interesting, I’m afraid, though you’d prefer it wasn’t, I’m sure. That implies, in my experience, either dislike so intense you decide to ignore something, or that you’ve been hurt to the point where you either cannot or will not feel things properly.”

Leaning in, he studied her face closely for a reaction, brow furrowing in concentration. “The real question is not whether or not you care. It’s why you don’t. I’m very curious to know the answer."

His words were so pretty and his actions so petty that Lily knew he meant to stick around. He was going to be looking for the meaning behind this ‘act’ and he would be sorely disappointed. At one point, yes, it had been an act, a cleverly crafted mask of apathy to escape. But soon, she found that there was no need to wear the mask, for her soul had taken on the shape of that permanent frown. She was not trying to get at anything being like this. She was stuck in this phase of just being, unable to actually attempt to get anything she might want.

He assured her that he would not be quitting her company and she heaved a shrug. “Then stay. Matters little to me.” He then went on a long path to highlight her rudeness and the necessity to call him by his first name rather than his last. Her eyes fluttered closed again as she concentrated on the act of being, inhaling and exhaling, feeling the sensation of grass beneath her, of wind on her pale cheek. She gave him another simple, dull response. “You said it yourself. I’m not very appreciative today. So your talk of politeness and what would be appreciated – wasted.”

She had dismissed him for his own sake. When she said she was indifferent, she had truly meant it. She could not even be bothered. If he were to full-fledged mock her, she might build some indignation, but would it be enough to spur her to act? She suspected she knew a bit, now, about the plight of one overly-cautious Danish prince. She could see how one would hesitate so violently before action. But he put far too much thought into the act of hesitation as well. It seemed Hamlet would only ever be understood in parts. That, she could also relate with.

He began another long-winded explanation and Lily felt her lips twitch in the corner into almost a sad smile, but it promptly left, leaving its ghost behind for a moment or two before disappearing completely. She could feel him lean in towards her and she turned her head, her eyelids flicking open to reveal the murky waters of dissatisfaction that lie behind them. “Let’s say you have the right to pull these wild assumptions from the air. I give you the right because you’re right. I do not care. So, here's the kicker, Mr Darren. And I'm being honest, 'cause I have no reason not to be. There is no reason. If you can find one, I'd be very much indebted to you, but there is no reason nor rhyme to my inability to care.”

And she turned away, closing her eyes once again, retreating back to the metaphorical turtle shell. Concentrating on breathing again. And more words escape her tired brain and her underused lips. “Besides, the real question isn’t why. It’s whether or not you can feel again.”