Magic [jo_suzaku and Koe-chan]

[BlaqueCatt]

Koe-chan's Character

 

 

Name: Shamus Gallagher

Preferred Name: Shay

Gender: Male

Age & Year: 15, Year 4

House: Slytherin

Nationality: Irish

Patronus: Wolf

 

Appearance:

 

 

 

 

Personality: Shay is a quiet, sensitive, introverted young man. He almost never speaks unless he is required to, and when he does speak, his voice is incredibly soft, almost impossible to hear unless one listens closely. He spends most of his time alone and is very private, almost reclusive. He takes everything seriously and is afraid of other humans, resulting in his extreme social anxiety and inability to function in groups. He also suffers from major depression and has self-harmed as well as contemplated suicide. He does not eat often, resulting in his thin frame, which makes him seem even smaller than he is, with his average height. He hates being touched and is easily startled and flustered. He stutters when he speaks, as it is hard for him to get the words out, and he finds solace in music. He has an extremely gentle nature but is unable to express it. he keeps his emotions bottled up and his expression blank for his own safety. His eyes are always guarded, and he has given up hope of ever making a friend. If he ever does find one, he will be understandably dependent on that person, if they are willing to accept him. He has very low self-confidence and considers himself to be an ugly, dangerous monster.

 

History: Shay was born to a Slytherin mother and a Ravenclaw father. He had a relatively normal childhood, growing up in Ireland. However, once he reached ten years, things started changing. Not only did his magical abilities expand far past that of a child's, and at an accelerated pace, but he started to hear and see things that others couldn't. At first his parents believed it was just an imaginary friend, and they encouraged him to make real friends. It persisted, and eventually they had a feeling that something was wrong with their son. But before they could bring Shay to a hospital, his mother heard him talking to someone in his room. She forced the door open with a spell and found Shay speaking to a snake that had come in from the window. If it had been at any other time, his parents would have been pleased, as being a Parseltongue had once been seen as a gift. However, with Voldemort's power and influence rising, such a thing was a bad omen. They believed he was cursed and sent him away to Hogwarts as soon as they could, essentially disowning him. Of course, the rumors spread throughout the school; the students fear him, are jealous of him, and bully him drastically as a result. The teachers are suspicious of him and are extremely harsh with him, even when he hasn't done anything wrong.

 

Sexuality: Homosexual

Other: Shay has a thick Irish accent that becomes more pronounced when dealing with difficult emotions. He is a Pureblood and a Parseltongue. He does not return home for holidays and remains at the school year-round. He is able to perform spells that only higher years should have access to, but he often loses control of his magic and suffers from extended blackout periods in which he wakes up with no idea of what he had been doing. The teachers keep him under almost constant watch.

 

 

 

jo_suzaku's Character

 

 

 

 

 

[table=width: 500, class: grid, align: center]

[tr]

[td]Name[/td]

[td]Marcus Black a.k.a. Marc[/td]

[/tr]

[tr]

[td]Hair[/td]

[td]Raven Black[/td]

[/tr]

[tr]

[td]Eyes[/td]

[td]Ink Blue[/td]

[/tr]

[tr]

[td]Height[/td]

[td]5'9''[/td]

[/tr]

[tr]

[td]Traits[/td]

[td]Smart, Athletic and Arrogant[/td]

[/tr]

[/table]

 

Biography -

 

Marcus is one of the Black descendants. He is good-looking and tall for his age, features undoubtedly inherited from the Blacks, but he detests his family background. Marcus is a half-blood whose family was cast away the minute his dad married a muggle girl. During the war, his mother was murdered and his dad brought him up singlehandedly. He is very proud about his magical abilities and spent most of his younger days moving from place to place as his dad was a Curse-breaker who kept getting transferred. He was ecstatic when he received his Hogwarts letter and he sincerely hoped he would do his father proud.

[BlaqueCatt]

Shay shivered as the cold night air blew across his skin, pulling his green-and-black robe tighter around himself in an attempt to ward off the chill. He was standing at the main entrance of Hogwarts, watching silently as all of the students who lived in the school year-round congregated near the end of the cobblestone road. They were anxiously awaiting the arrival of their friends, who would be returning for another year. The members of the semi-large group chatted excitedly with one another, and despite the distance between them and himself, Shay could see their erratic hand gestures and the bright smiles on their faces. Not for the first time, his heart ached at the sight; he wanted more than anything to be able to have friends with whom he could spent time with. He logically knew that would never happen--everyone, both wizard and muggle, despised him--but his emotions refused to acknowledge that fact.

 

As the Slytherin boy became lost in his own dark thoughts, his hands curled into fists, nails digging sharply into his palms. This was a subconscious action; he had come to learn, long ago, that physical pain was the only thing that could effectively take away the stress of overwhelming emotions. His hands and arms were marred with dark red stripes; he never caused enough damage that scars appeared, but the marks were constantly present. It was strange and illogical, but looking at the self-inflicted lines gave him a sense of relief, relief that even music couldn't bring him. It's no wonder they're afraid of me, he thought, his lips twitching into a bitter half-smile. Only a crazy person would find comfort in hurting themselves. His green eyes broke away from the group, and he lowered his head, slipping his hands out from their place hidden beneath his sleeves. For several moments he did nothing but stare at the bloody crescents, whose color contrasted greatly with his pale skin.

 

Shay was abruptly drawn from his trance when he heard the footsteps of Thestrals accompanied by the harsh sound of carriage wheels clattered over uneven pavement. The group at the end of the path erupted into a frenzy, calling out to the others and waving energetically. Shay swallowed the lump in his throat, his anxiety spiking; soon the crowd would grow beyond belief, and he would be swept up by the bodies of people who hated him. He pressed himself against the stone wall behind him, and all thoughts of the numbing cold flew from his mind as he was swamped by panic. The same thing happened to him every year, several times a year, and he thought he would be used to it by now. It was just his luck, though, that it never got any better for him.

 

He wanted desperately to retreat into the castle, to find a corner and hide until the students had filtered into the Great Hall for the entrance ceremony and feast. Unfortunately, several teachers were waiting inside, and he would undoubtedly be singled out and scolded just for entering a few minutes early. All he could do was try to steel himself before he was targeted. His eyes closed and he inhaled deeply, schooling his expression into a blank mask. He did it just in time, as the group had become a crowd, and that crowd was heading right for him. He shrank back when the first few people approached, warily watching them pass. For a few moments it seemed that he would be let off the hook for once in his life. That hope was crushed, however, when a certain group of people approached him.

 

This specific group had latched onto him since his first year and hadn't let up since. He quickly averted eye contact, but he seemed to have qualities that those of a beacon. Someone bumped into him, the action jostling him into the center of the crowd. He momentarily froze, his eyes widening as he tried not to lose his composure. Just as he was about to move to the side, another person stuck their leg out. Shay went sprawling, managing to catch himself with his hands, but further cutting his palms in the process. He winced as the previous wounds opened and filled with dirt.

 

"Oh my, are you okay?" Shay looked up in surprise, seeing a Hufflepuff girl--she was a year older than him--bending over with her hand outstretched. He stared at her unblinkingly, unsure of how to react. Was this for real? She wasn't a first year, so she must know about him. It was wise of him no to take her hand, because after a moment of waiting her kind smile vanished and she straightened, rolling her eyes. "You're no fun. I was totally going to drop you," she sneered, and the people with her laughed before walking away. No one else touched him after that, and the rest of the crowd went around him; no one bothered to help him up.

 

"Who's that?" a small first-year asked their taller companion. The older kid glanced at Shay and made a face.

 

"It doesn't matter who he is, but stay away from him. People say that he's cursed." The first-year's curiosity morphed into fear, and he quickly scurried away. Soon, almost everyone was inside, except for Shay, who sat completely still in the middle of the entrance. He was in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened, even though it happened all the time. Claws fingers gripped his heart, and he felt nauseous.

 

"Get up, Mr. Gallagher," a sharp voice snapped from his side. He tensed and looked up at the strict woman standing in front of him. He didn't know what she taught, but he assumed she had been assigned as his 'follower' for the evening. Shay struggled to his feet, swaying slightly due to his lightheadedness. The woman tsk'ed at him, shooting him a glare, before entering the building. The Irishman hesitated, then made to follow. However, he ended up bumping into someone, and the touch immediately sent him into a panic attack.

 

"I-I'm s-sorry," he stuttered, averting eye contact with the blue-eyed Gryffindor in front of him. The genuine fear in his eyes had been clear for the split second their gazes met. They were in the same year, but he had never seen the boy before. His hands were wringing together in front of him in a nervous habit. "I-it won't h-happen again," he promised before turning on his heel and fleeing into the Great Hall. He found a seat at the end of the Slytherin table; once again there was a lot of space between him and the others. It seemed that they hated him enough to be willing to cramp together on the bench in order to avoid him.

[jo_suzaku]

Staring out of the window, he watched as the breeze silently moved the leaves of the trees outside. It was almost two in the morning. This was the first end-of-term holidays that he was spending apart from his father. One of the duties of being a curse breaker for the Ministry was that his dad had to undertake various dangerous missions. Many a times, Marcus had accompanied his dad and they used to live in a 'safe house' along with the families of other wizards and witches who were part of the team. This time though, according to his father's letter, the mission was very risky. Marcus wasn't too worried though. His dad was brave and had a very successful curse breaking history. However, a single mistake could risk him losing his life.

 

The dark haired boy shook his head, trying to rid the dark and dreary thoughts from his mind. He was at his grandparent’s house, where he had to spend the rest of his holidays pretending to be a muggle. The day his dad married his mother, the infamous Black family disowned his father. While growing up, his dad refused to talk about his past or his family. Every time Marcus tried to bring it up, he always got shut-down. When his mother had passed away, Marcus was just a little kid. Though his grandparents loved him and dotted on him a lot, he always felt a little uncomfortable around them. It was probably because they met only twice a year or so. They were the kind of Muggles who believed in magic and yet at the same time, weren’t too paranoid about it. The loss of their daughter did come as a shock. However, they accepted it and never once blamed Marcus’ father.

 

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Marcus flopped down on the bed. This room used to belong to his mother’s elder brother when he was younger. Posters of racing bikes, a football team, tacky looking girls and fancy cars lined left hand side wall. Staring at the ceiling, he wondered what all his school friends were doing. Being a proud Gryffindor, he had made a few trustworthy friends. Smiling slightly at the image of the re-union they had after the Christmas holidays in the third year, Marcus drifted off.

 

- Few Months Later -

 

As the Hogwarts express rounded the corner, Marcus looked out and took in the view. The magnificent castle twinkled in the twilight. He was heading to one of his most favourite places once again! As the train slowed down, he got changed and disembarked with his group. He felt a shiver of excitement mingled with the chill September air. As they made their way towards the Thestral-drawn carriages, Marcus checked his pockets, suddenly realizing that in his excitement, he had stashed his wand on the side table of their train carriage and had forgotten to pick it up.

 

He began to push against the growing stream of students headed for the carriages, shouting something vaguely to his friends. He finally managed to reach the train and headed for the compartment, hoping against hope that his wand was not taken by anyone. Luckily for him, a few students were still leaving the train from the carriages in the front. He quickly managed to retrieve his wand and sprinted back to the carriages. Unfortunately, the carriage carrying his friends was already filled up. He managed to get place in the last one just before it departed.

 

As they made their way towards the castle, Marcus realized that he was sitting right next to a brown haired boy and a rather pretty looking girl from his year. The boy was from Hufflepuff and the girl, from Slytherin. They were having an intense discussion about someone in the girl’s class. As much as Marcus hated to eavesdrop, the conversation piqued his interest. They were apparently arguing about some ‘cursed boy’ in their year. The Hufflepuff boy was telling the girl to stay away from him at all costs otherwise she might fall prey to his curse.

 

Marcus couldn’t help but scoff at this odd statement. This caught the brown-haired boy’s attention. “What, you don’t believe me?” he challenged, eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed the smirking Gryffindor. “No, I was merely wondering how it was possible to fall prey to a curse.” At that, the Slytherin girl spoke up. “Oh, you would think it’s funny but you really have no idea do you?”

 

Before Marcus could answer her, they had already reached the castle. Since he was close to the door, he swung it open, grinning while he said, “Curses are not diseases.” With that he made his way to the Great Hall, only to find a student sitting right in the middle of the entrance. Blinking, he stopped in his tracks for a minute, taking in the pitiful image of the boy. There were only a handful of people left and they gave the boy a wide berth. “That’s him” whispered the Slytherin girl loudly, the word ‘him’ layered with disgust and hatred. The Hufflepuff boy stopped walking, causing a sort of standstill. Marcus continued to walk on, observing the boy. He indeed made a very strange sight.

 

He was almost at the top of the steps when he saw a teacher chide the boy before departing. As the boy got up, swaying slightly, Marcus made a deliberate turn walking straight towards the boy. Looking closely at the boy, he noticed all the wounds and suddenly felt a stab of pity for the sad looking boy in front of him. He walked on though, wondering if he should have said anything.

 

The next thing he knew, the boy had blindly bumped into him. He apologized profusely but Marcus waved it off. Before he could get a decent word, the Syltherin had scooted off. Slightly shocked at what just happened, Marcus stared at the retreating figure of the boy slightly confused. “He touched him!” At the words of the Slytherin girl, Marcus burst out laughing. “Oh no! I’m cursed too” he said, his face pulled into an expression of mock horror. “Go on and tell all your friends then” he said cheerily. Both, the boy and girl frowned at Marcus and stalked off towards their table without further comment.

 

Chuckling, Marcus made his way towards his table, his eyes scanning the Slytherin table. Seeing the boy sit all alone at the end of the table made him make up his mind. As soon as the feast was over and everyone was headed back to their dormitories, he dawdled a little, trying to match his pace with the green-eyed boy. As soon as he got close enough, he flashed him a smile and held out his hand. “Hi! I’m Marcus but you can call me Marc. What’s your name?”

[BlaqueCatt]

Shay's heart was beating rapidly in his chest after his encounter with the Gryffindor student. He could barely keep his hands from shaking as he attempted to settle himself onto the bench at his table. Whether his sudden excitement was a result of fear or something else, he couldn't be sure. He was so handsome, the young man thought, though he quickly pushed the notion to the back of his mind and tightly locked it away. No, no one will ever like me, especially not someone like him. He probably has a lot of friends... For a moment, jealousy rose up within him, but it was squashed by listlessness as Shay remembered that his loneliness was his own fault. If I wasn't so strange, then people wouldn't hate me. The brunette had stopped attempting to become normal long ago, but that didn't mean he still didn't wish that he could be like everyone else. I didn't ask for these powers... He blinked a few times, feeling tears welling up within his emerald green eyes. Even though he was often reduced to tears, he refused to cry in public; or, at least he tried to refrain from crying in public. He hastily wiped at his eyes with his sleeve and turned his attention outward.

 

Shay realized with a pang of guilt that the first-years had already found their Houses. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed. His eyes scanned the room, and though it was unsurprising, he couldn't help but feel deeply saddened by the fact that all of the new Slytherins had taken to sitting as far away from him as possible. The rumors about him had circulated so quickly that not one new student had attempted to talk to him this year. He swallowed the lump in his throat and lowered his head, gazing down at his empty plate. The chatter had started up, and the people around him were helping themselves to the food. Shay's stomach ached, as he rarely ate anything, but he was sure he would be sick if he tried. No one cared if he starved himself, anyway, and by this point he was so greatly ignored that no one singled him out for bad manners. So, he spent the entirety of the meal drawing patterns on his plate with his right index finger, his eyes blankly staring into space.

 

The only warning he had towards the end of the feast was the sensation of someone kicking the bench as they stood up. He paused in his movements, listening to the people around him filtering out of the room. It was always better for him to stay behind until the crowd dispersed - he was safer that way - so he remained seated for several minutes. Only once the room was mostly clear did he stand. Subconsciously he flexed his hands, and he visibly winced as the movement irritated his palms. The blood had clotted, but the cuts were still dirty. However, he couldn't bring himself to care. I'm a monster anyway. I deserve to be injured. A bitter smile appeared on his face, and it wavered as fresh tears threatened to surface. He once again dabbed at his eyes. Before he could continue walking, though, someone unexpectedly approached him.

 

"Hi! I’m Marcus but you can call me Marc. What’s your name?" The Slytherin boy froze, and he swore that his heart stopped beating. He hesitated, then cautiously looked up at the boy in front of him, who claimed to be Marcus. His green eyes were comically wide - it would have been funny if they hadn't been rimmed with red - and his expression conveyed his shock and terror. No one ever spoke to him unless he was about to be teased or beaten. And why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be the handsome boy who seemed so kind? Shay knew it was a joke, and because of that, his hear ached even more.

 

Why do you care? he wanted to ask, but the words didn't come out. Saying such a thing would make the boy angry, and despite the situation, Shay didn't want to seem rude. The black-haired boy's posture was wary - he made no move to shake hands and had even taken a step backwards - and his brows were furrowed in suspicion. "I-I...m-my name is Sh-Shamus," he stuttered, his accent thickening due to his rising panic. "Shamus Gallagher. B-but..." He took a breath, trying to calm down. He had wanted to say, but people call me Shay, except no one ever spoke to him. So he amended himself and ended with a strained, "...but I pref-fer t-to be called Sh-Shay." His shoulders were trembling, his hands were folded in front of his chest, as if he was ready to shield his face, and his eyes looked anywhere but at Marcus.

[jo_suzaku]

As Marc stared into those deep green eyes, he sensed that there was a bit of conflict going through the other boy's mind. He felt a pang of pity as he saw the boy struggling to answer the question. Doesn't he talk to people? Why was he sitting all alone during dinner? Besides, all Marcus wanted to know was the boy's name. When the boy stepped backwards, Marcus felt uncomfortable. Had he said something he shouldn't have? He began to feel a little nervous as the boy looked back at him, very suspiciously.

 

"I-I...m-my name is Sh-Shamus, Shamus Gallagher. B-but..." Marcus let out a sigh of relief when the boy spoke. For a moment it looked like the boy was going to hex him. He grinned a little as the boy continued. "...but I pref-fer t-to be called Sh-Shay."

 

“Nice to meet you Shay!” he said. He tried to keep his voice light and friendly. He didn't like the reaction he was getting though. He was still trying to figure out if the boy was angry or scared. His stance seemed like he didn't want to say anything more but his eyes gave him away. Marcus was somehow drawn to him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he wondered if the boy had a problem communicating with people or if he was just shy.

 

As Shamus folded his hands in front of him, his sleeves were drawn back and he got a glimpse of his scarred hands. However it was the fresh wound caught his eyes. Marcus lost track of what he was going to say as he saw the dried up blood. From his point of view, he couldn't see the cuts properly. So he didn't know how serious it was. But the boy looked pale and suddenly Marcus felt himself unconsciously worrying about him. “Wait a minute, are you hurt? Do you want me to take you up to the hospital wing?” he blurted out.

 

He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, waiting for Shamus to answer the question. He hoped he had not frightened the boy but that was the only thing he could think off. He looked at Shamus' face, trying to gauge his reaction.

[BlaqueCatt]

Shamus had been expecting the end of the conversation once he told Marcus his name. Normally, those who attempted to talk to him would have been turned away by this point, either due to his strange personality or because they had heard of the rumors. Because of this, he was completely caught off-guard by the taller student speaking to him again. He nearly jumped out of his skin and his expression rivaled that of a deer caught in headlights. Just as he had started to calm down - I think he'll leave me alone... - another curve-ball was thrown straight at him. Not only was someone talking to him without sounding as though they were suffering, but said person was asking if he was injured. He's been hexed and forced into doing this. Or maybe I've finally gone crazy and I'm imagining this entire encounter.

 

It took a moment for the Slytherin boy to recover his wits about him. When he answered, his voice was extremely quiet, and his anxiety was so high that it was bleeding into his words. "I-I...n-no, I'm fine. I j-just tripped and scraped by palms." He pulled down his sleeves so that his arms were covered, and he clenched his hands into fists, ignoring the pain in an attempt to hide the bloody skin. He still refused to meet the others' gaze, and he had taken another hesitant step back. Confusion and unease waged war inside of his mind, and his furrowed black eyebrows and the way in which he was biting down on the inside of his lower lip clearly conveyed that. If his eyes hadn't been hidden behind his fringe, they too would have expressed the onslaught of emotions that were wreaking havoc on him.

 

I hope he didn't see the scars. Even if he is hexed, he'll still remember them. I don't want people to start making fun of me for that, too. Shamus was very small. He was shorter than most males his age, and his body was thin and frail with little muscle. His skin was so pale that it resembled paper, and there were dark shadows under his green eyes, which were dull with hidden fears and doubts. His jet black hair was straight yet messy, and it was obvious that he purposefully styled it so that it covered his eyes. He could have been very handsome, if not for the depression that ruined his appetite and the bullying that kept him locked away inside.

 

A few seconds passed, and eventually Shamus' stress built up to its boiling point. He lowered his head even further and took several steps away from Marcus. "I-I don't know w-who put you up to this," he stuttered, his entire body trembling with fear of repercussion for saying what he thought, "b-but I w-want you and whoever d-dared you to leave me alone!" His tone had risen by the end of it, and tears had reappeared in his eyes. He sounded almost hysterical with terror and despairing anger. Another moment of silence went by, and then he whispered, "P-please stop."

[jo_suzaku]

In all his years at Hogwarts, Marcus had never come across someone so confusing. He was laid back and easy-going in nature. Thus, he found it very simple to talk to people and make friends. He not only had friends from his own house, but got along well with people from other houses too. However, the boy in front of him intrigued him. He wanted to get Shamus to talk to him and open up to him. However, it was proving to be quite a task.

 

Since he didn't want to force Shamus to go up to the hospital wing, he simply nodded when the boy declined his offer. Before he could utter another word the boy suddenly started to lose control. All he could do was stare as the boy accused him of being set-up by another person. As the boy stepped backwards, Marcus bit his lip. Was Shamus that repulsed by him? He desperately wanted to know what the boy was thinking. He silently heard the boy's outburst, his ears turning slightly red. This was the first time someone had asked him to be left alone.

 

“I don't know what you're talking about Shay! Please, can you just calm down and tell me what's wrong?” he exclaimed, his eyes flashing slightly. He closed his eyes for a few moments and took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. His voice shook a little as he tried to calmly reason with the hysterical boy in front of him. “Look, no one has 'put me up' to anything. I just erm-” he paused and looked down. “Erm, I just thought we could be friends.”

 

Marcus usually never stumbled over his words. He looked up and tried to catch the boy's green eyes with his own blue ones. He wanted the boy to trust him. More importantly, he wanted the boy to relax and not be scared. He somehow knew that gaining the other's trust was going to take time. But he was prepared. “Please?” he added as an afterthought, wishing that the boy would at least consider his request.

[BlaqueCatt]

Shamus kept one moss-green eye locked on the other boy, tensely watching out for the rebuttal he knew would follow his outburst, while he wiped at his face with the sleeve that covered his right arm. The tears were now streaming uncontrollably down his pale cheeks, but at least he had enough dignity to refrain from making any pitiful noises. I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have said anything! Now he and his friends are going to come after me too... It took all of his willpower to keep from hyperventilating. He hadn't had a breakdown this severe since his first two years of attending Hogwarts. For a while he had comforted himself with the idea that he was destined to be alone, and somehow that had made it a bit more bearable. But it had all been a lie. He was just as sensitive as he had been from the beginning, and the knowledge that a boy like Marcus - someone who was kind to all of his friends and was loved by many - would never want to have anything to do with him had tipped him over the edge.

 

I'm such an idiot! I-- The Slytherin's inner self-deprecating monologue was cut short when Marcus spoke again. Shamus risked a glance towards the other teenager, and he couldn't help but stare when he saw confusion reflected in the Gryffindor's blue eyes. Why is he looking at me like that? “I don't know what you're talking about Shay! Please, can you just calm down and tell me what's wrong?” The brunette flinched visibly when he noticed the sharp flash in the taller boy's gaze, but he was unable to look away, as he was amazed by the genuine concern and uncertainty in the others' expression. Is he...serious? He doesn't know? When Shamus was calm, he was quite good at reading people. Now that the threat of being attacked was gone, his heartbeat had slowed - though he was still wary and unwilling to be hopeful - and he could tell that Marcus was not lying. Hex or not, he really didn't know.

 

Shamus sighed inwardly and lowered his head once more, scuffing his shoe gently against the floor and squeezing his hands together tightly in front of him. He was silent for a few moments, then said softly, "You don't want to be friends with me." He sounded oddly placid, as if he had already come to terms with what he was saying, but the pain he felt lingered within his voice. "Haven't you heard? I'm cursed. No one comes near me, and no one likes me. My magic is strange, my appearance is strange...everything about me is strange." He choked slightly and had to take a moment to swallow. "They call me a...a monster, and they're...they're right. I'm not normal. I'm not...I'm not good. Everyone who comes near me gets hurt. You may not have heard, but I'll tell you now that it's best to stay away from me." The room was completely empty by that point, and Shamus took another couple of steps back, inching his way towards the door. "I...th-thank you for worrying about me. But you should stay with your other friends." By the end of his speech, his voice was barely over a whisper.

[jo_suzaku]

Marcus gulped as he noticed the tears streaming down the boy's face. But to his surprise, he wiped them away and composed himself rather quickly. As the silence stretched between them, Marcus was on the verge of giving up and going back to his dormitory. Clearly, Shamus didn't want to be friends. He was just about to turn and walk away when the two of them made eye contact. Marcus felt as if the boy was probing him with those beautiful crystal green eyes of his. Their eye-to-eye contact broke, probably a bit too soon for Marcus. When Shamus lowered his head once more, dark thoughts clouded Marcus' head.

 

"You don't want to be friends with me." Marcus was shocked at Shamus' statement. He narrowed his eyes slightly when he realized that the boy was trying to decide for him. That was not fair at all. As he continued speaking, Marcus realized that the two people he had met in the coach on the way to the castle were not joking. Shamus was calling himself cursed. However, instead of feeling repulsed, Marcus felt himself wanting to know more and more about the boy. On hearing his last statement, Marcus took a step towards the retreating boy.

 

“Well, I don't give a damn about what people say or think” said Marcus, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “And I don't think you're a monster. You shouldn't agree so easily to what people say.” Somehow the boy's expression made Marcus reconsider his proposition. He thought he should give the boy some time for him to change his mind. Marcus looked at Shamus beseechingly. “I want to be friends with you. Why don't you think about it at least instead of dismissing it?” he implored.

[BlaqueCatt]

Shamus, who had turned his back on Marcus as soon as he finished speaking, froze when he detected the annoyance in the others' voice. He hesitated for a moment, then warily glanced over his shoulder at the taller boy. His green eyes searched Marcus' expression for any signs of anger or contempt. He was surprised to find none, and at that moment, the things that the Gryffindor had said came back to him. "I don't give a damn about what people say or think. And I don't think you're a monster. You shouldn't agree so easily to what people say.” Shamus' eyes widened, and he blinked a few times, convinced that he was dreaming. Discreetly, he dug his nails into his palms, and the pain alerted him to the fact that this conversation was reality. That realization caused the boy's heart to clench tightly in his chest, and the dim light of fragile hope appeared in his gaze.

 

"You...you don't hate me?" It was too good to be true, but Shamus, who had become an expert at reading people for his own safety, could not find a hint of a lie in Marcus' eyes. "You really want to be my friend? Even though people will dislike you for being seen near me?" Some of the darkness in his expression had faded, and the increasing gratitude in his voice was obvious. At this point, he didn't care if it was a prank; he had already be hurt so many times. If this turned out badly, what was one more hole in his heart? "I-If you're t-telling the truth...I-I really want to be your friend!" He knew he sounded desperate, and he blushed slightly because of it.