we meet again

There was no words to describe how Iris was feeling. All she wanted to do right now was scream. And maybe run off to a faraway place where no one could find her. She was sick of her life and how everything was turning out to be so twisted and wrong. Ever since the kidnapping, she hasn't been herself. Each day of inflicted torture was a day she lost a bit of who she really was.

She didn't know what actually lured her here. Maybe the silence. Or maybe because the dead can't taunt you if you show your weakness. She walked past different graves, her feet barely making any noise. This was calm and serene.

This was also something like hell. At least for her.

Feliks sat a top of a wider, more sturdy grace, a sketch book in hand, his gaze focused on the scene in front of him, the way the light hit off the ground and the stones.

He liked cemetaries for this reason. If he could forget about his mother, and just draw...

They gave the best scenes. They were just so many ways to see everything. It was actually a peaceful place. Feliks sometimes hoped he could maybe show that to people through his drawings.

As it was, he was so focused on what he was doing, he didn't even notice the girl as she got closer to him.

Though it's probably been hours since she was walking, Iris was just not ready to go back or even slow to a stop. Why would she, when this helped her escape the outside world and stay away from people.

She spotted a familiar figure further ahead and as she got closer, she realized who it was.

"Felix, how goes it?" She called out and went up, till she was sitting next to the Hrabrost.

"And what are you sketching this time?" She asked curiously, remembering the amazing drawings he had shown her the first time they met.

The boy, although never startled easily - and when he is, doesn't show it much - looked up sharply at the voice, managing only out of pure force to steady his hand, and not run a sharp line through his whole photo.

His first instinct had been to hide what he was doing, but upon seeing the familiar face of Grayson, another one of those hoggy students that had gotten his secret out of him, he left it where it was. Only stopping to give the girl a slight nod.

"Grayson," he nodded his head, a slight smirk growing on his face, making his gruff tone slightly more warm. Or as warm as Feliks every allowed himself to be, "Its goes. You?"

He nodded his head to the tombstone in front of him. It was an older stone, weather worn, it looked all but forgotten.

Except for the lone fresh flower that sat gracefully on top of it.

"The flower," he said, for once not thinking about how unitimidating such an answer would sound.

Iris wondered how to answer the question. When was the last time someone asked her how things were? It's been too long, she decided.

"I wish it'd go a bit better," she finally admitted, playing with a rock in her hand.

She followed the boy's gaze and allowed a smile to fall on her face. A genuine smile. She wasn't the one to appreciate nature's beauty or any of that sort. But for once, she let herself feel good, just by looking at something so simple yet beautiful.

Because amongst the depressing tombs, the flower stood there like a ray of hope.

"Can I see it?" She asked, turning to look at him.

He was shading in the side of the grave it sat on.

"Thats too bad," he said, not in a note of pity, but just in a way that said that it was the truth. It was too bad, "Then again, don't we all wish for things to go better."

Again, it was merely a statement and nothing more. He did not invite the girl to talk about it, although he liked her, he honestly wasn't the sort to do so. However, should she wish to talk, he supposed he wouldn't have interupted her. He was drawing anyways.

Sometimes it was nice to have something to listen to while he drew.

He shrugged his shoulders, as he frowned at the page, it needed some colour, just where the flower was, "Sure, if you want."

He held it slight to the side, so she could look at it while he rumaged for a red pencil.

"Yes, but this time, I really do wish things would go better, at least for once," Iris confessed once more, emphasising that one desire. "Things have been fucked up for far too long and I am really running out of patience."

The Gryffindor wasn't the type to rant or vent, that too, to someone she didn't know very well. If there one thing she hated, it was complaining to people and showing her weak side.

But even if the Hrabrost didn't care, she sensed that he'd be too engrossed in his drawing to pay attention and stop her ranting.

Letting her fingers graze the page softly, the blonde couldn't help but compare the real thing and the drawing. She had to admit, it was a really good drawing.

"Amazing as before," she complimented and smirked lightly.

Feliks smirked lightly at her praise, having found the red pencil and reappearing, "I try."

He took the drawing back and started to shade colour in lightly, frowning, and then diving for a darker shade to blend.

"Patience, I don't believe I was born with that," he snorted and shook his head lightly. He found the pencil and paused from his drawing long enough to look at her, "If your fed up, do something about it."

"You try and you succeed, so no worries," Iris said and gave a brief smile. It wasn't so common for her to compliment, but there were exceptions always.

"Glad to know I'm not the only impatient soul around here," the Gryffindor replied and shook her head. At the boy's advice, she wondered if she should indeed do something. Or had she done enough?

"But what if I make things worse by doing something about it?" She questioned.

"I'm sure there are more of us," he responded easily, smirking at his page, alternating pencils as he went about shading in his flower. "They just seem to think they need to hide it."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, but kept his eyes glued to his work.

At her worry he shrugged his shoulder, "Then do something else; just keep doing something until your happy with what you've got."

"Can't blame them for wanting to hide," muttered the blonde and shook her head. "Though I don't think it's going to get them anywhere, besides delaying the inevitable."

"I am happy with what I've got. It's probably the way shitty things keep happening one after another that's blowing my top," Iris sighed.

Playing with the rock in her hand, she asked, "So how has everything been for you?"

The boy smirked slightly, "Which is why I inturn blame them for wanting to hide."

Frowning, he allowed his pensil to lightly shade, tilting his head to the side, thinking that he was all but done.

Except there seemed to be something missing. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Everythings been decent," he responded with an easy shrug, "Won't hear me compliaining."

"Hiding always seems to be an easier option for people, huh?" Iris mused and shook her head. "They have excuses ready at their fingertips, and later won't face the consequences of their running away."

Watching the Hrabrost's easy glide of the pencil, she couldn't help but ask, "What inspired you to become artistic like this?"

"Good to know, since it'd suck if we both ended up complaining," she remarked with a humourless smile.