Flickering flames ((Jared))

[Layla Ellison]

School wasn’t exciting in the slightest. School was the brief time of learning that happened between young childhood and adulthood. It was only a short seven years that she had to endure before she could leave the taunts and the jeering glances far behind her. In theory, Layla was correct. Life was long and seven years was nothing at all in comparison to the rest of her life. But in practice, when she faced those sneers and mocking laughs daily, seven years seemed like a long, long time. Even seven hours could seem like an eternity. At times – mostly when she was with Ashlyn (and therefore Damon because he was forever at her side) or Gabriel or Rister were trying to cheer her up even when they didn’t know what was wrong with her – Layla felt almost content and the tumultuous storm in her mind ceased to whirl quite so sickeningly.

There was no true peace though. Not when some of her tormentors inhabited the same dorm-room. Some nights were hellish, with hissed insults and derisive comments ringing in her ears until the other girls fell asleep and Layla was left alone with her own memory as the torture. There were nights when she couldn’t bear to sleep; this wasn’t one of those nights. She actually felt tired for once, her eyes slowly slipping shut and immediately snapping open once more after a few seconds of darkness because the darkness was too intense, too frightening, too much and Layla was too weak to handle it. They had broken her crystal nightlight three nights ago by smashing it against the floor in frustrated anger at her reticence. The crystal was cracked and the light completely extinguished. A stronger person wouldn’t have been bothered by that. It was just a small illumination that broke the darkness. It wasn’t important. But Layla wasn’t strong. If she was strong then she would never have needed that nightlight in the first place. Leandra used a nightlight, Layla reminded herself sharply. If Leandra needed a nightlight then it wasn’t pathetic and it didn’t make her unbearably fragile. Leandra wasn’t fragile. Not outwardly. She was talkative and entertaining and fun. She was, in short, everything that Layla wasn’t. Leandra even had the warm, loving family that Layla missed and craved for her own. That made her feel selfish and only resulted in her clamming up even further.

Hidden in the flickering shadows created by the soft glow of the dying firelight, Layla sighed and snuggled deeper into the blanket she had dragged down to the common room from her bed. There would be little sleep for her tonight but at least she would be able to sleep for another half hour before the fire died down completely. When the darkness sunk in, the nightmares returned and tears came with them even if only barely audible whimpers were the only sounds that she ever made. The screaming had stopped months ago, before Ashlyn had first introduced the most important person in her life to her younger cousins. Everyone in her life seemed to come in pairs. Except her. Ashlyn and Damon. Keegan and Alexis. Morgana and Leandra. Jared and Gabriel. Rister and Lita, or Rister and Meredith and Lita and Gaenor. Shivering miserably, Layla glanced up and instantly recoiled from the dark eyes staring at her from the entrance to the common room. Whether Jared had only just come in or was leaving and had noticed her presence, Layla wasn’t sure but she silently lowered her gaze and turned her head away to stare into the low, orange-red flames that were gently flickering out of existence.

[Jared Graas R4]

Jared walked slowly through the dark hallways. It was such an hour of the night that even Filch and rebellious kids who liked staying up late just to prove a point had already retired. Jared did wish that he himself had retired already as well and sleeping deeply in his bed under a thick blanket. He would be, soon, he promised to himself, pressing his palm at the back of his neck and rolling his head slowly to attempt to work out the kinks in it. He had postponed retreating to bed until he could finish getting down at least an idea for the lyrics to the tune that had came to him, but his muses didn’t seem to be overly cooperative today so at one moment he had simply drift off. And sleeping in an awkward slouch over a guitar on hard ground was hardly the ideal sleeping position or place. But he just had to get to his common room and then he could retire into his bed and slip into blissful oblivion in dreams. Turning the last corner, Jared came to a stop before the Ravenclaw common room entrance and upon hearing the question murmured the answer, thankful that he got something he would know off the top of his head.

The door opened softly as Ravenclaw common room door was the quietest door in all of Hogwarts with the exception of the library door. A creak of a carelessly swung door was the only thing needed to make your life a living hell if it happened to be interrupting the concentration of a Ravenclaw studying for exams or tests. Opening and closing the door quietly was one of the first skills young Ravenclaws actually acquired in school. A skill which probably allowed him to see more than he was expected too right now, Jared realised as he stayed still and observe the young blonde curled up before the fireplace. She had seemed withdrawn lately, tired and careworn like no eleven year old should be. Even now curled up under a blanket and staring into the last embers of the dying fire she looked so lonely that Jared felt it stab at him. He wasn’t prepared yet when something made her glance up, her eyes glistening even in the dim common room, even as she averted her eyes immediately, seemingly refusing to meet his eyes. It had been obvious for a long while that she wasn’t sincerely and wholly liberate and happy, yet never before had the knowledge been so clearly visible. It worried him. They had all quietly agreed not to press her for anything as Layla didn’t speak much on the whole and speaking of problems was hard. But for now Jared wondered.

He also missed his brothers, mom and dad. They would know what to do, how to comfort a girl who refused to acknowledge to be comforted and yet so evidently needed it. Jared didn’t know what to do, but he was here and now and he couldn’t just do nothing. The thick carpet – also installed to prevent someone’s footsteps disturbing others – muffled his footsteps as he slowly and carefully walked over to the couch Layla had chosen for herself today. Setting his guitar gently on one of the three seats on the couch, Jared sat down next to Layla. He had no idea what to say or do to make whatever was troubling Layla pass easier… Maybe he should ask what Rister and Damon thought in the morning. For now he simply reached out his hand, wrapped it around Layla’s shoulders and pulled the girl against his side. Absently tucking the blanket tighter around her, Jared reached for his wand tucked next to his guitar and after managing to grasp it, pointed it to the fireplace and murmured “Incendio.” A small flame burst forth from the dying embers, not enough to light the entire room but still something that could be called a flame already. Dropping his wand next to his guitar again, Jared turned his head and pressed an absent kiss at Layla’s temple, before leaning his cheek lightly over her blonde hair that tickled his nose slightly. Perhaps he should say something or even ask if Layla would have rather been left alone, but… as he sat there, staring at the small flickering flame dancing in the hearth his mind was utterly blank.

[Layla Ellison]

The room was starting to get colder as the fire slowly ceased to emit any real heat. The flames still flickered, making the shadows on the wall bend and dance in front of her cheerless blue eyes. Ashlyn had once left out a photograph of herself with their uncle when she had been teaching Layla how to play the piano. The young Ashlyn had summoned a false smile for the girl peering at her with undisguised interest but there had been the unmistakable glimmer of melancholy and sulkiness. Layla didn’t need a mirror to know that she looked almost exactly like Ashlyn had in that photo. The two blondes were nearly identical anyway, except for their differing ages and Layla’s softer features. Ashlyn was all sharp edges. There were times when Layla idly wondered how Damon remained uncut and undamaged when he hugged and charmed her cousin. Very few were so lucky. If not for the family loyalty that Ashlyn lectured them about all the time then Layla would never have been a welcomed addition to her cousin’s life. She was too quiet, too meek and softly-spoken. There was nothing about her that Ashlyn would have respected if they didn’t share blood-ties.

It was an oddly easy thought to live with, and one that Layla rarely spent time contemplating. She and Ashlyn were family, so what did it matter if they wouldn’t have been friends if they hadn’t been related? They wouldn’t have known each other. Layla would have been untroubled by the existence of her cousin. She wouldn’t have had Ashlyn to guide her, but she didn’t have Keegan or Alexis either so everything would have been as she had expected it to be. Family was nothing to her older twin siblings. They had each other and they didn’t need anyone else. They didn’t want anyone else. Indeed, why should they? Their parents had never shown much love for them, much as the twins had still mourned their mother and hated their father for abandoning them. To be a twin, Layla imagined, would be a wonderful but secluded life. To be one half of a whole would ensure that she was never alone but, judging by Alexis and Keegan, it also guaranteed that her twin would be her most constant cohort and there would be little reprieve from that one eternal companion. Ashlyn didn’t like the twins. She never said anything, but she didn’t have to. Layla knew. Of course she knew. She was the quiet one, the one who sat silently and simply watched. Layla saw more than people thought. She observed the frustrated confusion when Damon perplexed Ashlyn merely because he cared, she saw the awkward tiredness in Lita’s eyes as she juggled her loyalty to Rister and the tangled manipulations that she had enfolded Meredith Garwin within and also the love she held for the man who was never there often enough to satisfy Lita’s lovingly selfish yet silent demands for his presence, she even noticed the bitter infatuation that one Slytherin girl had for Gabriel and the common sense that restrained her from letting him know. Gabriel was a foolish choice for a love unless he returned the emotion. He was the idol; girls flocked to him like moths to the brightest of lights.

Breath caught in her tight throat, Layla turned her head away from Jared’s probing gaze. Words didn’t come to her lips but his eyes made her feel like he could bypass her lack of speech and just read her mind to find out what he wanted to know. No one ever had that effect on her except Jared. He had known that she wanted to learn how to play the guitar after only one wistful flick of her eyes in the direction of the instrument. No one had ever noticed so much about the silent meaning behind each soundless gesture. Other girls might have called him a prince or a knight, but Layla was not so young or so foolish. Jared was just Jared: the young son of a loving family with enough attention left over to spare some for the lonely ward of the girl bonded to his brother. All the same, Layla didn’t resist but instead allowed herself to curl up against him like a young child seeking small scraps of affection. It was pleasant to feel loved every once in a while. His affection wasn’t hers to receive but Layla soaked it up all the same, resting her forehead against the side of his arm. Only a few second passed before, feeling warm and safe and something very close to loved, a few tears slid from under her closed lashes, the start of a salty flood that was abruptly locked away before more than a few escaped. With a low, guttural noise, Layla choked back her cries. Except from the times she woke up with wet cheeks after a nightmare, she hadn’t cried since the night that her mother died. There was no point or purpose to weeping. She might be fragile and pathetic, but Layla was not yet so wretchedly pitiable as to cry in front of Jared or his brothers or sisters.