A/N: Please bear in mind that this is a multi-chaptered fic, and will improve with time. No, really.
The snowflakes spiraling downward made her feel like she was soaring up through the stars.
Corrine Wayward rested her head against her dormitory window and stared across the grounds blankly, watching, but not truly seeing, the fat, feathery snowflakes drift and alight on the ground.
It seemed so long ago…her last happy Christmas…
Corrine did not wish to think about the sad memories, all so recent, that had invaded her life and turned it in circles. She carefully filed them and put them aside in her mind, as was her wont, internalizing everything and saving it for another time.
The window faintly reflected her face, and, with a wry half-smile, Corrine realized that she matched the landscape outside. From her father, ivory skin like snow (though her complexion possessed a faint olive tint); thick black hair from her Spanish mother that disappeared against the blackness of the forest; and stormy blue-grey eyes, just the shade of the darkening twilight sky. Although Loretta Clark, her best friend, said that her eyes could also charitably be compared to the lint that collected in the pockets of jeans.
A round face like a snowman, too, Corrine thought resentfully, staring at herself. Not pretty by a long shot.
Her current state of lazy vanity was a ploy to distract herself and keep the melancholy thoughts at bay. Corrine had managed to live like this for seventeen years, not realizing that this dam she had constructed in her mind was a temporary structure; the build-up of negativity behind it would eventually crush it and overflow.
She pushed herself up and left the dormitory, determined to reach the library. Homework could certainly distract her for a time.
As Corrine passed through the Gryffindor common room, she noticed Seamus Finnigan sitting next to the fire, gazing at it blankly. She quickly averted her eyes, blushing hotly. She'd fancied Seamus for as long as she could remember. To her consternation, they were the only two Gryffindors staying for the holidays, and two of seven students in total remaining at Hogwarts for Christmas.
Corrine shook her head, shaking her head sadly. So much tragedy…
She was staying by choice. Her parents were currently undergoing a rocky divorce, and she was distancing herself from it, as she did with so many negative things. Seamus's parents were dead.
She winced in recollection. Memories of early October flooded her: the sight of a black owl targeting Seamus…the stamp of a famous wizarding funeral home on the thick envelope …the way the blood drained from his face…
Corrine had known the Finnigans. Their mothers had been close friends – a Spaniard and an Irish woman, married to British men, displaced from their native countries; they had hit it off in some witches' club they belonged to. For the first seven years of their childhood, Corrine and Seamus were inseparable. Then her family had moved south, severing the ties between the two families. Neither, apparently, was good at keeping in touch. Four years later, in their first year of Hogwarts, Seamus had not recognized her.
He and his relatives had not invited the Waywards to the funeral. But they went anyway, if only for a memory. Corrine had spent the whole ordeal hiding in the back of the crowd with her parents and casting furtive looks at Seamus. He hadn't noticed her. He still didn't know she had been there to watch him cry on the shoulder of his grandmother.
"'Therefore, ye soft pipes, play on,'" Corrine murmured softly, hearing the plaintive bagpipe music of two months previous swirl in her ears.
The library was empty of students. Only Madam Pince and Filch graced it, their heads bent together in solemn conversation. Both glared at her when she dared intrude on their privacy.
Corrine melted obligingly into a remote corner, far away from them. She'd been alone long enough in her life to appreciate the value of solitude.
Perhaps her loneliness made her both more and less susceptible to the desperation and emotion of the times. It caused her to be caught up in her own private sorrow, a burden of grief that she couldn't share with anyone. However, when everyone left and disappeared, it frankly didn't cause her any more or less desolation than she normally felt.
Take, for example, the Golden Trio, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They hadn't shown up for this school year. Corrine knew that they'd gone to hunt down and kill Voldemort. On the one hand, the swelling, simultaneous gratefulness and fear she felt for them threatened to overwhelm her. But on the other, she hadn't known them very well. They never talked to her, although they didn't go out of their way to ignore her. And so, despite her concern for their well-being, it was really only as a casual observer. Her only friend was Loretta, and even she was a dubious familiar, often choosing to associate with her Ravenclaw classmates over quiet, serious Corrine Wayward.
Corrine shook her head as she spread her books open on the table. It was a vicious circle.
The Transfigurations homework, usually the one assignment she actually enjoyed, swam before her eyes. Corrine sighed. If she couldn't even concentrate on her favorite subject, she obviously wasn't going to get anything done.
She surrendered and allowed her thoughts to engulf her. In times like this, it was better to just go with the flow of her stream of consciousness.
She was afraid, Corrine reflected quietly, her face pillowed on her fists. She was, frankly, terrified. That emotion was the one that stood out the clearest as she thought about the situation of the wizarding world.
And why?
She had no friends to lose. Her parents didn't even care at this point.
In short, she had herself.
I don't want to die, Corrine thought dimly. God help it all, I don't want to die before I'm supposed to. This isn't supposed to happen.
It was the denial, creeping back to catch her unawares. After she'd first heard that Voldemort was back on the rise, she'd categorically refused to believe it. It was impossible…her world, imperfect as it was, could not be this twisted apart…
But it was. Corrine had faced it, and was facing it now.
It could have been worse. It could have been far worse. She could have had more at stake besides herself and the general normalcy of her life. She could have had friends, a closer family, a boyfriend…something else. But she didn't.
Would that make her sacrifice any less?
Would it be so terribly selfish of her to be more upset over the loss of her balanced, if flawed, life, rather than the deaths of so many innocents?
Foolish tears clouded her eyes, and Corrine swiped them away impatiently. This was the darker side of her thinking, the side that always thought of her, and only her. The side that didn't care how many died, just as long as she kept on living.
And that, in short, is how I feel about this war, Corrine decided. I hate it. I'm scared of it. I'm scared for people. I'm scared for the world. But most of all, I'm scared for myself and what could happen to me. That's not how I want to be. But that's how it is. That's the truth. And I won't try to change it. By now, she knew herself well enough to realize that she would not change her mind once it was made up. Her last name fit her well.
Her rapid thoughts died away. Corrine sighed and started nibbling at a hangnail.
She had nowhere to go. Nothing to do. No one to love.
"Hey, who — Corrine?"
Corrine started, banging her knee on the desk and cursing furiously, her cheeks bright red. Beyond the intruder, Madam Pince cast her a nasty look.
"Sorry, did I startle you?" Seamus asked worriedly, strolling up to her. "You scared me as well, though. There's usually no one in the library this time at night, least of all way back here."
Close up, Corrine could clearly see the pallor of his freckled face, the dark shadows under his sad eyes. He was grieving in a way she never would, for something she would never have…
"I didn't want to risk the wrath of Madam Pince," she explained, keeping her tone light. Then, curiosity overcoming her, she added, "You know my name?"
He stared at her, frowning slightly, obviously surprised. "Well, of course," he replied. "I mean, we were neighbors, and all. I didn't think you remembered me. Through all the years, we never really talked much. Wonder why?" His countenance cleared. "So I guess we really do remember each other, just never let on. Funny how these misunderstandings happen, aye?"
"Yeah," Corrine agreed. His melodic Irish accent was pleasant to hear.
"D'you want to sit down?" she added hastily, indicating the seat across from her. "I'd love the company." Shyness was never her weak point.
Seamus smiled, a grin that illuminated his face. "Sure," he agreed readily. Corrine's steady, serious heart almost skipped a beat, then realized how romance-novel that sounded and decided against it.
"So," he asked when seated, "how has your first day of holidays been?"
Corrine reflected on all her possible answers and settled on, "Uneventful. And yours?"
His face somewhat bleak, Seamus said, "Fine." He wouldn't meet her eyes.
Corrine raised one eyebrow. "Seamus, I do believe you're lying to me."
This caused him to lift his head, grinning lopsidedly. His hazel eyes danced merrily. "Corrine, I do believe you're lying to me too. Or at least not including the whole story."
She smiled back. "Fine. I'll admit I'm lying if you do the same."
Was this flirting? Could she possibly be flirting with Seamus Finnigan after all they'd been through and all they and their world were now going through? It seemed so strange that something so comfortingly normal as flirting could go on.
Seamus exhaled, leaning back and running his finger through brownish-blond hair. "Yeah. Yeah, I was lying. Christmas this year is…" His face twisted with sorrow.
Boldly, Corrine reached out a hand and covered his, squeezing gently. "I know," she whispered.
He gazed blankly at their joined hands. "How?" he whispered back, his voice cracking. "How could you ever possibly know?"
Corrine took her time choosing her words, laying them out carefully in her mind before voicing them. "I have absolutely no idea what you're going through," she admitted honestly. "I could never know. I've never been blessed with people that important in my life. But I do realize that it's a terrible tragedy, and it must be hard for you."
It was awhile before Seamus responded, his eyes still locked on their hands, as if they were somehow anchoring him to the present.
"The funny thing is," he said slowly, "the funny thing is, we weren't even that close. I mean, especially me and my mum. We fought a lot. At the time, I could only think…God, why can't she be easy-going? Why can't she give up for once?
"And I kind of feel…I dunno. Maybe that's why she did give up her life. Because she somehow realized that I wanted her to surrender. And now…now I'm never going to fight with her again. That's kind of a check, you know? Makes you regret wishful thinking. Because I'd never wish that, if I had known. I'd never…"
To do him justice, Seamus did not cry, not at this moment. His eyes sparkled dangerously and his lips twitched, but not a tear did he shed.
For once in her capable life, Corinne couldn't think of anything to say. "I – I'm sorry, Seamus," she stuttered. "I don't know what to say. If I could…but I can't." She gave his hand another comforting squeeze.
His face brightened marginally. "It's enough that you're listening. I could never talk about this to Dean. Not at all. Too sappy for us. And Parvati and Lavender…well, they're nice, but they don't care, not the way you do. Somehow, it's easier to talk to you about this."
Corrine colored slightly and dropped her eyes, confused. "Well, thanks, I guess," she said awkwardly. "Must be the, er, childhood ties, right?" She blinked and raised her eyes again, smiling crookedly.
He returned the wry smile. "Speaking of which, does anyone still call you Cori?"
Corrine shrugged. "My parents did when we were still talking to each other. Loretta mostly calls me Corrine. Sometimes Kansas." When Seamus looked blank, she shrugged again, explaining, "Apparently some Yankee band called Kansas recorded a song called 'Carry On, My Wayward Son.' Muggle, of course. Play on my last name, I suppose, though not a very good joke. Er…you're more than welcome to call me Cori, though." She smiled warmly. "For old time's sake."
The warm light in Seamus's eyes was better than butterbeer. "I'd hoped you'd say that," he said quietly. "It – it reminds me of years ago, when none of this stuff had happened…"
"Yeah," Corrine responded, just as softly, "I know what you mean."
Seamus seemed to rouse himself from memories and fixed his eyes steadfastly on hers. "What about you?" he queried, hazel eyes clear and inquiring. "How has the war affected you?"
And without quite knowing how it was happening, Corrine found herself spilling everything she had just thought about to Seamus. She left nothing out, not even her selfishness — Corrine was inherently truthful and never tried to sugar-coat her flaws. She told him of her fears, her confusion, her persistent rebellion against the upset Voldemort was causing, her denial, her self-centered worries. It all tumbled out in a rush of emotion.
Seamus listened so patiently, so willingly, his eyes studying her face without a trace of blame or bias; it was difficult to stop talking. Corrine willed herself to wrap it up.
"And I think another part of it is," Corrine finished, "that I feel like I – we – all the Gryffindors should hide how we really feel. Because we're supposed to be the brave ones. And I'm supposed to be doubly brave, since I don't have a caring family or friends to lose, and so I have to be stronger for those who do and worry about it."
Seamus quirked his mouth. "I understand that. But look at it this way: maybe being brave isn't hiding what you feel, but being courageous enough to show it. Maybe it's being the one who has the guts to cry for what our world is now and show compassion to those who feel the same way but just can't show it. And as a Gryffindor…Cori, you don't have to try to be brave. You're a Gryffindor. That's what you're known for. That's what we're known for. You are strong by nature. And what do you mean, you have nothing to lose? You have friends, Cori."
Corrine raised her eyebrows. "Er…no, not really."
All Seamus said was, "You have me."
Corrine frowned. "Well…yes…I mean, I do consider you my friend, albeit a little…well…" She trailed off helplessly.
"What?"
"Well, you must admit, this is a little unorthodox. Estranged childhood best friends suddenly reunite in the library a week before Christmas and relay all their woes and fears." Corrine shook her head, blue-black hair swinging. "It's like a storybook."
Seamus shrugged prosaically. "At least storybooks have happy endings."
Corrine sighed. "Do you think this will be a happy ending?" she murmured softly, half to herself.
Seamus heard and squeezed her hand, offering her the same solace that she had given him. "I hope so. But at least now we have each other to talk to?" His eyes were faintly questioning, as was his tone.
Corrine smiled firmly, happiness blossoming in her chest. "I'm glad of that."
They might have sat there smiling at each other for awhile if Madam Pince hadn't interrupted, poking her sharp nose around the corner and nearly shrieking with rage.
"Do you two realize that you're in here half an hour past curfew? You're lucky if I don't report you! Get out, now!"
Corrine and Seamus stumbled out of the library, trying desperately not to laugh. "As if we care about curfew," Seamus snorted once out of earshot.
Corrine nodded in agreement. "Still, I would rather like to return to the common room, now that she mentions it. I wanted to go for an early walk tomorrow morning, so I planned to go to bed soon."
"A walk? Would you mind if I came?"
Seamus's face showed nothing but eager sincerity. Though a small part of her thought that he only did this out of pure loneliness and would abandon her upon the return of Dean, Lavender, and Parvati, Corrine replied, "Of course I wouldn't mind. You're perfectly welcome to come." She smiled warmly and laughed. "I won't wait for you, though."
"Oh, don't worry, I'm an early riser," Seamus assured her. "I – I haven't been sleeping very well lately…"
"Right," Corrine finished for him sympathetically as they neared the Fat Lady's portrait. "Understandable."
The common room was dark, the fire having burned down to a few stray embers. They stood before it awkwardly, suddenly unsure of how to act in so prosaic a situation.
"Well, good night," Corrine said abruptly, making the best of the situation and deciding to end it where it stood. "See you tomorrow morning?"
Seamus's face creased into a smile. "Right. Good night, Corrine." He waved at her as he disappeared into the boys' dormitories.
Corrine sighed. That part of her was nagging again, whispering to her not to trust him…he'd only abandon her like her parents had…
But for now, his friendship was good enough for her.
On a stormy sea of moving emotion
Tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean
I set a course for winds of fortune
But I hear the voices say...