Sugar Plum Fairies

Hair tousled, eyes ringed with dark circles, Coyota Rangan stared into the dying embers of the fireplace. She sat cross-legged on the sofa, staying as still as a statue.

It's not real, she insisted to herself, almost chanting it in her head, just as she always did when she had nightmares, ever since she was a little girl. It never helped, though, because it never mattered. They aren't real.

She knew they weren't real. She knew it in every fiber of her being. But those dreams fed off of her darkest fears and twisted her worst memories. It was as if her own mind was trying to destroy her.

Someone had once told Coyota, Even though people may leave you, their memories live on in the hearts of those who knew them. At the time, she had only taken it as a friendly gesture meant to console her for the losses of her parents. Now, however she saw it for what it really was.

A warning.

No matter where she went, nor what she did, the memories of her mother and father would haunt her until the end of time. Because of them, she would never be sane. She would never be free.

It's not real. They are gone. It's not real. No matter how many times the girl told herself that, she could still feel the sensation of her tattoo squirming as it did in the dream, as if there was actually a snake in her skin. It made her want to vomit.

She closed her eyes, trying to clear her thoughts. Not long after she did, an image of her mother appeared in her minds eye, and it wouldn't go away. A stream of white foam was bubbling out of her mouth, just like the day that she died. But this time, the woman began to move her lips, though her eyes were still glazed over and her body limp.

Oh black of soul, be our guide. Coyota realized that it wasn't her mother speaking, but a voice echoing from somewhere inside her.

Oh corrupted, bathe the earth in fire, A cobra slithered out of the corpse's mouth, and with a flash of it's eyes, the foam melted into blood, which was soaked into the ground and dyed the snake's skin red.

And we will feast on its ashes, until a new world is born, bloody and burnt. The cobra hissed and puffed out the skin on its neck, but instead of skin there was a mirror, and all the girl saw in it was herself. Except she had smoldering red eyes, like burning coals, and she wore a demonic smile that nearly stretched all the way across her face, making her look like a snake herself.

Coyota hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep until she woke up again, screaming.

Mars leaned against the back of the sofa where the girl had fallen asleep. He winced when she started screaming. That was loud.

"Will you stop?" he asked, pressing a hand to one ear. "What were you dreaming about, anyway? Looked like one hell of a nightmare. You reek of fear." He wrinkled his nose.

Coyota quickly sat up at the sound of someone talking, frantically looking around for the source of the noise. She finally found it, and realized it was only the perverted boy she had seen on the train. The girl relaxed significantly.

Then memories of the dream came rushing back to her, and she put her head in her hands with a sigh, regaining her composure so she was calm enough to talk.

She turned back to the boy, "You know how sometimes people will rewrite a fairytale and put sort of a creepy twist on it? And it's just that much more disturbing because it's a story that you grew up with."

"Well, my dream was sort of like that. Except it wasn't a fairytale. Instead it was just my mother dying." She said it quickly and concisely, as if she were explaining something ordinary and mundane.

Once she had finished talking, she gave the other Slytherin a quick, sarcastic smile, and promptly turned back to the fire. Or at least, what used to be a fire. She took out her wand, muttered, "Incendio," and the half-dead embers in the fireplace burst back to life, providing the room with a warm glow.

"Actually, fairytales originally had a creepy twist," Mars said. "People rewrote them to give them happy endings, but the real stories didn't usually end well." The teen stood from his position against the back of the sofa, moving around to perch on its arm.

"Sucks," he said when she revealed what her dream had been about. There really wasn't much else to say. Nightmares always sucked and they were almost always about something sucky that had happened to a person. Mars knew this from experience.

Coyota pouted at the fire, "Oh... Well... I'm Indian. I don't know this stuff." She marveled at how good this kid was at annoying the crap out of her. She looked up at the boy, "Who are you anyway? I usually like to know the name of the person I'm half-arguing with."

"Basically," She said, her eyes still on the fire. Half of her was contemplating what that dream meant, while the other half was trying to conceal the slowly fading horror she felt. "You don't seem to shocked. Normally if I tell people a smidgen about my life they feel pretty sorry for me."

"Most people don't. They only care about the happy endings," Mars said. The American gave an amused grin. "Didn't know we were arguing. Name's Mars. Mars Pagan."

"Do you want me to feel sorry for you? Because honestly, sweetheart, you don't seem the type to seek pity," he said. "Lots of people have seen horrible things, had people die, the works. A lot of them have nightmares about it. Hell, people have nightmares without any shit happening to them. You can choose to be trapped in your nightmares or wake up and keep living your life. All the pity in the world won't change that."

Coyota raised an eyebrow, "Mars? Like... the planet?" She frowned, "I thought western names were supposed to be all obscure and meaningless and stuff. Yours actually sounds kind of normal."

"I never said I was. It's just rare that I meet people here who are already so jaded." She turned to Mars, a small smirk on her face, "Is everybody at this school as screwed up as you seem to be?"

The girl bit her lip, "The thing is, my nightmares are what kept me alive during times when I could hardly even remember my own name. The longer I stay here, the more I'm beginning to realize that the nightmares might be all I have... maybe all that I've ever had... Does that even make any sense?"

"Like the god," Mars said. "Dad named me."

He smirked back. "Who says I'm screwed up? Maybe I'm just a realist." He stared at the fire while she talked. Mars frowned in thought before looking at her. "Do you mean like what some would consider weakness has become a strength or that you don't actually remember your mother, just your nightmares of her?"

Coyota crossed her arms, an eyebrow raised, "Realists are the worst. They're all... right. All the time."

"Ohh, I can definitely remember my mother," And she did. She remembered everything about her. The way she would pretend to care, but really all she saw when she looked at her daughter was shame and disappointment, in the child, but mostly in herself. Did she not think that Coyota noticed when the woman would avoid her for days, weeks at a time, just so she didn't have to see her daughter's face?

"But, yes. I used the fear from my nightmares as an asset. It kept me on my feet every second of the day, and without that I wouldn't be here."

She shook her head, "Sorry... I'm talking too much about myself. It's rude." She considered leaving, and not wasting any more of the boy's time, but Coyota knew that if she left, she'd only be going back to the nightmares.

"You're named after the god of war, right? Is that intentional?" She looked up at him, thinking back to a book she had read about the Romans and their religion. She had always thought of Mars as the worst of the gods: Unstable, bloodthirsty... She had wondered why anyone in their right mind would pray to him, much less name their child after him.

Mars shrugged at her apology. Most people talked about themselves. He encouraged it. Saved him from talking about himself.

"My father wanted me to have a strong name," he said. "What would be stronger than the name of a god? Mars was lauded for his military prowess." He shot her a knowing smirk. "Unlike his Greek counterpart, he was considered respectable."

"Oh," She said with a frown. That book was about the Greeks, wasn't it? She shrugged. Details were never her strong suit. "That was nice of your father, though. To want good things for you."

A sudden shiver passed through Coyota, which was odd, considering the room wasn't all that cold. The girl moved to the floor so she could sit closer to the fire, and the wave of heat made her feel just a little bit better. "Did you open a window?" She asked the boy, before remembering that they were underground, "Oh... Never mind."

"Guess he was alright when he was around," Mars said indifferently.

"Cold, sweetheart? I'd offer to help warm you up, but you don't like me." He laid out across the empty sofa. "Always thought it strange that dungeons could have drafts."

He looked at her. "What is your name, anyway?"

Coyota smirked up at Mars, "At least you have some sense of when to draw the line." She turned back to the fire, stretching out her feet as they basked in its warmth, "England, in general. Everything here is too cold."

The girl frowned. Did he really not know her name? It was odd, considering how much she had shared with him already. She shrugged the feeling off and offered a hand to the boy, "My name's Coyota."

"I do?" Mars deadpanned, then smirked right back. "I don't mind the cold."

He reached to shake her hand, then laid back on the sofa again. "Interesting name," he said. "Suits you." He gazed at the ceiling and listened to the area around them. Nothing much of interest really happening. Several people were snoring, some were doing homework, others other things. He focused on her heartbeat.

"So. Why don't you like me?" he asked. He didn't really care, only a little curious. Mostly he was bored and had nothing else to do.

"Well, you're American, aren't you? If anything, it gets even colder there." Yota frowned as she shivered once again, and slid even closer to the fire. She grabbed a poker from the side of the fireplace and began to prod at the wood, watching it crumble then burst briefly into flame.

She smiled to herself as he commented on her name. The girl had always hated it, even before she realized her parents were morons. It was just a stupid name. There wasn't much else to say about it.

"Because you're a hormone-crazed boy with too much muscle for his own good, that's why," She said, hardly having to give any thought to it. If she couldn't trust someone, then she didn't like them, and Mars wasn't at all worth trusting.

"Where I'm from, yes," Mars said. "It gets below freezing, lots of snow. I'm guessing you wouldn't really be a fan."

Rolling to his feet, he grabbed a pillow from the sofa. He pulled his wand from his pocket and muttered a spell to transfigure it into a blanket. He wrapped it around her shoulders, crouching so he was closer to eye level with her.

"Is that it?" he asked with an amused smirk. "Lemme let you in on a secret, sweetheart. All guys are hormone-crazed, and if they have muscles, there are too many for their own good. Your judgment amuses me. You've talked to me twice, now, and you already have me all figured out, don't you?"

"I would think you'd like muscles, really. The way you follow the vampire around even though she terrifies you. I could easily smell it, you know, which means she could smell it, but you know that already, don't you? You're just like a pilot fish, following after the big bad shark for protection. The only difference between a shark and a vampire is that the shark won't eat its pilot fish."

Mars rose to his feet, stretching lazily. "Oh. That's another thing I have too much of for my own good - intelligence," he said. "But you weren't judging me on that, now, were you?"

Yota clutched the blanket closer to her before she had the chance to become surprised that it was even there in the first place. Her eyes flicked to Mars, the smirk returning to her face, "Did I strike a chord?" She shook her head with a small laugh, "Really, though, I wouldn't worry about it. I'm an infamously poor judge of character."

Any trace of humor fell of the girl's face as she listened to what he had to say next. The truth of it struck her with a special kind of horror. Was her insecurity really that obvious? Of course, people were bound to notice the fear on her face, but did she really seem so... weak?

The girl stared listlessly into the fire. Whatever she was now, it was far better than what she had been all those years ago. That was enough for her, "Clearly, I don't have to explain my own insanity to you. If you're so clever, then figure it out for yourself."

Mars gave a devil-may-care grin. "Not worried about it, Coy. Your judgement is actually more charitable than most. Still amuses me."

"Fine," Mars said with a shrug. "I think you don't like to feel vulnerable. No one does. So you hang around people who make you feel safe from most other people. I could teach you to fend for yourself. You probably know all about already though, don't you? I could protect you just as well as the vampire, too. Probably won't want to eat you either."

Coyota returned his shrug, "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm afraid of being vulnerable, and maybe I hide behind people stronger than I am. But maybe you're wrong. To be honest, I couldn't tell you either way."

She looked up at Mars, "There's nothing for you to protect me from. The only thing left that I'm running from is my fear. Maybe... maybe I hide behind people not because they're stronger than me... but because they understand." She shook her head, "I don't know."

"Something only you can determine," Mars said indifferently. "I think the most important thing a person can do is learn to know who they are. Other people's opinions don't count as much. My opinion of you. Your opinion of me. Doesn't matter. I know who and what I am. You, you're getting there."

He rolled his shoulders and strolled towards the boys dorms. "If you ever do need protection, the offer's still open," he said. He shot her a rakish grin over his shoulder. "I won't ask too much of you in return."

Coyota watched Mars as he walked away, thoroughly confused by the boy's behavior. Of course, she was proud enough to try and hide it. Still, she stared after him, desperately trying to determine how a boy could be a complete pig one minute, and a rational, thoughtful human being the next.

She turned back to the fire, staring at it intently as she felt it's heat on her face, and as the silence enveloped her. She was determined not to fall asleep again. Now that there was no one to talk to, the nightmares were prowling about her, waiting for her to succumb.