Drawing (Open)

Paloma nodded, "You have no idea. I care more about them than I care about my parents."

She laughed a bit at her statement, "That's good. I'd hate it if you were a sadist or a misopedist or something."

"Alright, has anyone ever told you your eyes are just gorgeous?" she said when the girl looked up again.

"I suppose it's like that with many people," Angel said.

She looked at the drawing of the kids on the slide. "I don't think I am a sadist or a misopedist."

She shook her head. "Not that I can remember." It sounded strange coming from Angel, who could remember most things.

She looked the girl in front of her up and down. It had taken it's time, but now she knew.

"I trust you," Angel whispered to no one in particular, before looking down again.

"They don't ever judge me," Paloma explained, "They love me, they accept me for who I am. They don't expect me to be something I'm not."

"I don't think you are either," she shook her head.

She shrugged, "It's true, though. I wish I had eyes like that."

Paloma looked at the girl. She didn't seem to be the trusting type. But for some reason, she was saying she trusted her. She didn't know how to respond . . . because even though they'd just met, Paloma trusted her as well. She hadn't judged her, she'd been nice, even though she didn't smile much and seemed to be going through a lot, and she felt as if she could tell her whole life to the girl and she would understand.

She looked up at the sky and closed her eyes. The cool breeze made the weather much nicer. "It's weird," she told her, "But for some reason I trust you too."

"They must really love you," Angel sighed. "Lots."

She looked up again. "Really?" She tried to remember her exact eye colour. Light blue? Angel wasn't sure.

"Okay," she said.

She hadn't told anyone so much about herself before. It was strange, new. Angel found it relieving, though. She'd been carrying a burden of guilt, hate and such, and finally she'd said something. Angel had sworn herself into silence about the times she'd tried to commit suicide, though.

Paloma smiled softly, "They do. Just like Tallulah loves you."

She nodded, "I've always thought blue was a nice colour. They look so sad, though," she pointed out. "What's wrong?" she asked. She could tell she wasn't happy, there was something wrong in her life. Something that seemed to be putting her down. Whether it was being adopted, or fighting with her stepbrothers, or seeing Tallulah sad. . . Paloma didn't know.

Angel nodded. "I guess so."

At the question, she stiffened. She didn't know what to say to that. Angel was just always like that.

She took a beep breath. "Everything."



outfit!

Paloma looked sadly at her. She wished she could do something to help her, to make her feel better and happy.

First, she decided, she'd have to know what 'everything' meant.

"What do you mean by everything?" she asked and added quickly, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I just. . . I want to help."

Angel was taken aback. "I don't think I can be helped. That's all people have said ever since..." She didn't go on.

"All I've done ever since I was born is ruin people's lives," she said. "I don't mean to, but I do. Both my parents, Maggie, Tallulah, every person who's tried to get close to me ends up hating me. I even ruined my cat's life!"

She folded her arms. "You want the story? It's not a really happy one or anything, it's up to you."

Angel couldn't believe she was doing this. It was so unlike her to tell anyone anything about herself.

Paloma watched the girl carefully. "You don't have to listen to everything people say," she told her, "And maybe you'll ruin my life, maybe I will end up hating you like you say everyone else who's tried to get close to you does, but I think I'll take that chance."

Without hesitation, Paloma answered, "Yes. If you're okay with telling me, then I want to hear it."

"I know I'll ruin your life," Angel groaned. "I don't want to, but it'll happen. Are you sure?" She eyed the girl. Risking that?

She sighed. "Long version or short one?" Angel asked. "I'll just start anyway."

"Up 'till I was four, my life was great," she said. "We all lived in France, my family loved me, and I was probably the most spoilt child in the neighborhood. Everything was brilliant until just after my fourth birthday. That's when the fighting started." Angel trailed off, remembering the time she'd tried so hard to forget. "Should I go on?"

"How can you be so sure?" Paloma asked her.

She listened to everything she was saying carefully, wondering why someone so happy became so sad. She nodded, "If you feel alright with it. . "

Angel sighed. "Because I've done it to everyone I know."

"All hell broke loose when my parents started fighting," she said quietly. "My- uh, Christopher. Dad always had the upper hand, being a wizard and all. Mum was a harmless muggle. And he obviously needed someone to take all that anger out on. I was first choice."

"Every night, I cried myself to sleep, believing that some day, any day, it'd all get better. We'd all be happy again. That day never came. The beating got worse, and one day, I actually walked in on them fighting. The day he left."

Angel's voice was shaking. She knew what came next, and it was not good. She wiped the make up away from her arms, revealing big scars.

"Bread knife," she explained. "That day. I'll never forget it. Then he took a few things, and bolted. What a cruel, cruel man. I never want to see that face again."

The only person alive that knew about Angel's scars was Maggie. Tallulah would know, when she was older.

"We went into a very dark period after that," she went on. "Had to move to Dublin, too expensive in Paris. We lived like that for three years, in a tiny flat. Mum got sick over time. Very sick. I wish I'd known. Then, one morning when I was seven, she didnt wake up."

Angel's nose stung as she said that. "Mum refused that I was a witch, as she was very religious. I was told, though. Went to live in a horrid orphanage. Some of the most crap years of my life."

"Then Maggie came," she said, voice gentler. "She adopted me immediately, after two years in that place. Already had my brothers, and Tallulah came two years later. Things were better then."

Angel picked up the blue glass pearl around her neck. "And that's my story."

Paloma was trying to keep her face clean of emotions, she didn't want to freak the girl out, but when she showed her the scars of her arms, her eyes widened.

When Angel was done with the story, Paloma hugged her. Maybe it was a bad move, seeing as the Slytherin didn't trust people easily, but she'd said she trusted her hadn't she? And she didn't know what else to do, she hated seeing people like that. Especially a good person like Angel.

"Hey, you went through a lot," she told her, pulling away from the hug, "But it's all in the past. It's over. You won't need to go through this ever again."

When she was hugged, Angel struggled. Se gave in eventually, sighing. It was still hard to believe that she'd said it all.

"It may be over," Angel said. "But lately Maggie's been trying to track down my father to organize some kind of meeting. I don't want that to happen. If I ever meet him again I'll kill him. Simple as that!" She slapped her palms together to emphasize her point.

Paloma looked sadly at the girl, and nodded.

"Yeah, I don't think you two meeting would be a good idea at the moment," she said, "Have you tried talking to Maggie about it?"

"I don't either," Angel agreed. "It's best for him to stay away. I have. However, she's convinced I'll change my mind eventually. I don't think I will."

She came close to a shy smile. "Now you've heard mine, but what's your story then Lola?"

Paloma thought about it for a little longer and sighed, "Maybe she's right. Maybe you can solve this once and for all. Say everything you want to say to him, and then you'll never have to see your father again if you don't want to."

She rolled her eyes when she called her Lola, but laughed anyway. "I don't think I have one," she said, shrugging, "I was born on January 27th, grew up in London, moved to Germany right before my first year. . . the end."

"Maybe," Angel said, not entirely sure. "I don't think it'll be pleasant, but I can have a go at it."

She frowned. "That's not much of a story. I'm sure there's something more."

Paloma shrugged, "I'm a boring person, only fit to have a boring story."

Thinking it over, she sighed. The Slytherin had told her the story of her life, it was only fair for her to do the same.

"It's not much of a story," she warned, "It's nowhere as complicated as yours. Where to start. . . well, ever since we were little, my siblings and I were raised to be perfect, my parents expected the world of me. But if they expected the world of me, they expected the universe from my older sister. I didn't realize it, I was too naive, young, whatever."

"When we moved to Germany," she continued, "my sister decided she would stay at a friend's house so she could continue at Hogwarts. My parents were against it at first, but they ended up giving in. Anyway, that year - her fifth - she decided she wouldn't follow my parents wishes anymore. She went out, got drunk often, did what she wanted, whenever she wanted, and started having more fun. Studied, yes, but only what she felt was necessary, because she herself didn't like getting bad grades, she didn't do it for my parent's sake."

"Her grades dropped, and, of course, she wasn't top of her year anymore. She didn't give a damn, my parents, on the other hand, were pissed. I don't remember exactly what happened, I was in school at the time, but they had a huge fight at around January. When I went home for the summer, my sister sent me an owl telling me she would be spending the holidays with her friend and wouldn't be going home that year. They ignored each other for a few months, until, eventually, things started getting back on track."

"They still love each other, I'm sure of it, even if they don't always show it, but things will never be the same between them. They still disapprove of what she did, and they'll never talk about work and those things now that she's working in a Muggle jokeshop," Paloma told her, "That fight happened in my first year. After my sister 'rebelled', they started expecting the world, the universe and a bit more from me. I did that. For my whole second year and three quarters of my third I tried too hard to please them, I was so scared of being a failure in their eyes. Scared of doing to them the same thing my sister did. Even though I loved her, I was raised by my parents, I agreed with them that was she did was wrong. I didn't think it was something absurd, but I still thought she made a mistake. But now. . ." she sighed, "I'm just not sure I can take it anymore. Being perfect is the synonym to a lot of pressure on your soulders."

"So yeah," she concluded, "that's my not-so-important story."

Angel listened quietly, only nodding occasionally.

"Well," she said finally. "That wasn't very boring. Who wants to be perfect, anyway? I know I don't. I can see it's important to your parents, but just try to tell them that you don't want to have to be perfect. I'm sure they'll understand if you just pressure them a bit. Just go up to them and say firmly that you feel like there's too much pressure for you and that it would be nice if they just calmed down with that a bit." She nodded.

"If your parents care at all about how you feel, they'll listen," Angel told her firmly. She looked at her watch. "I think it's time for me to leave soon."

Paloma sighed, "I doubt it. I've told them and they just act like I'm a little kid who has no idea what she wants."

She looked at her watch as well and her eyes widened, "Woah, it's that late already? I suppose I should go as well."

"Well," Angel said, tilting her head. "Stomp your foot and yell at them."

She nodded. "I'll see you at Hogwarts." She stood up and collected her drawings. "Owl me whenever you want."

And with that, Angel turned on her heel and walked home, feeling more confident on talking to her 'family' about the fight.

Paloma shrugged, "And they'll say I'm just pulling an 'Alice', and will most likely blame it on her." Deciding she had bothered the girl enough with her silly problems, the Uchitel decided not to argue. "But I'll try."

"See you there," she smiled and gave a small wave, watching as the girl collected her things and walked away. When she was out of sight, Paloma sighed and got up.

Thinking about what she would do to get her parents to take her seriously, the girl walked away.