gravedigger | niamh

[Rocío Valdés]

september 1, 1973
train ride to hogwarts

Rocío didn’t bother glancing into the compartment as she slid the door open—her focus was entirely on scanning the hallway behind her and making sure two specific girls weren’t in sight. Satisfied that her escape had gone unnoticed, she ducked inside and shut the door with a solid click.

Relief (and disappointment) settled for half a second when she realized the girl sitting there wasn’t Lorelei or Angel.

Not that Rocío gave the stranger so much as a hello or a nod. She just tossed her bag onto the empty seat across from her and slid into the window seat, relaxing back as if she'd been here first.

But boredom was a persistent little bastard, and after a minute, Rocío let dark eyes drag over the girl in front of her. Slowly. Head to toe. She tilted her head slightly, arching a brow.

Who the hell was this?

She didn’t recognize her—hadn’t seen her once. Not in the halls. Not in class. Not even at meals. An eyebrow arched higher as Rocío met the girl’s gaze, her lips curling into a smirk that was all sharp edges.

“Do you even go here?”

Avoiding Lorelei and Angel had officially reached the boring as hell stage. This girl’d have to do.

[Niamh Doherty]

Niamh sat with her back to the window and legs taking up the length of the bench seat. She was lucky enough to score an empty compartment for her ride back to Hogwarts. She always dreaded this day and the trip to London that was required to even get her on the train. Who's idea was it to force everyone to go to bleedin' London anyway? Some of them couldn't just floo or apparate over like it was nothing.

Auntie Kathleen was never happy about it either. They didn't have the money for it, but she always somehow made it work.

At the sound of the compartment door opening, Niamh sat up a bit, dropping her feet to the floor. She didn't need to be yelled at for that.

Wordlessly another girl took a seat and made herself at home. Niamh watched carefully, trying to figure out just who the intruder was, but ultimately concluded that she had never seen her before. Apparently, the girl came to the same conclusion.

"Do I go here?" Niamh parroted back incredulously. "'Course I do; ever since first year. How else would I get on this train?"

Resuming her previous position, she looked over to the girl.

"You're the one with the American accent. Do you even go here?"

[Rocío Valdés]

Rocío squinted slightly, the faint lilt of the accent catching her attention—Irish, maybe? It wasn’t like hers didn’t stick out more, but still, she had to hold back a snort of amusement.

This one bit back. Interesting.

Dark eyes tracked the girl as she reclined back into her sprawl, unfazed by the attitude. Rocío let the silence hang for just a moment longer than comfortable before she finally lazily shrugged.

“I dunno,” she drawled, tilting her head with a slow smirk. “Maybe you got lost on your way to the farm and figured this was a fancy-ass wagon to the market?” Her gaze dipped deliberately, dragging over the girl’s clothes before flicking back up with a faint, teasing arch of her brow. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

[Niamh Doherty]

The other girl didn't answer. She didn't need to.

However, Niamh couldn't stop a laugh from escaping. She could practically hear her aunt shouting 'I told you so!'. For these long train rides, she preferred comfort over presentation, much to Auntie Kathleen's chagrin.

So, she was wearing an older jumper that had certainly seen better days (her aunt had threatened to throw it away just this morning) and a pair of trousers that were a size too big— she certainly wasn't going to wear a skirt for the trip.

"Aye, right. There are so many farms in Central London. Must've gotten confused."

Niamh turned her gaze back to the girl, infinitely more curious about her. She was so bold but somehow they've never crossed paths. You'd at least think that you'd hear about the American at Hogwarts. It's not like there were loads of them.

"So, who are you, anyway?"

[Rocío Valdés]

Rocío’s smirk curled wider, all teeth and amusement as she leaned back against the window, legs stretched out just enough to claim a little more space than necessary. Her gaze stayed on the girl, dark eyes glittering with a mix of boredom and intrigue, like a cat deciding whether to pounce or not.

She held up both hands then, palms out, in the most half-ass mock surrender ever, smirk still firmly in place. “You’re the one that decided to show up looking like you fell out of a Potatoes R Us advert.”

But her lips twitched, hovering somewhere between the smirk and a smile as she continued to openly consider the girl, eyes trailing over the sweater and baggy pants again, more carefully. Comfortable. Practical. Fine, she’d give the girl that. Silently.

Eventually, Rocío shrugged, all deliberate nonchalance. “Rocío Valdés.”

Rocío made a show of pulling a heavy book from her bag, flipping it open like that was the end of the conversation. But she didn’t look at the pages. Instead, dark eyes moved back over to the girl, lingering just a beat too long.

“Unless you want me to call you granjera all year,” Rocío began, voice carrying an almost lazy, teasing lilt that matched the slow curve of her lips. “What’s your name?”


granjera - farmer

[Niamh Doherty]

This ride back to school was shaping up to be far more interesting than it usually was. She usually used the journey as an opportunity to read or nap. She rarely conversed with others. Usually, she found them far too boring or annoying.

Niamh scoffed at the further prodding about her clothes. She waved her hand dismissively.

"Ach, we grow more than just potatoes— or at least I think so. More of a city dweller myself, actually."

She spent very little time outside of Belfast and none of that time has been spent on or near a farm.

Niamh shifted in her seat, sitting more upright with her legs tucked beside her. She was now facing Rocío. She leaned forward slightly in an attempt to see what she was reading. Though, she made no move to return to her previous position.

"Why?" Niamh's lips quirked into a smirk as she tilted her head slightly to her right. "Does it mean something terribly offensive?"

Though she had no earthly idea what granjera meant, she was fairly certain it was benign. But, the girl— Rocío, intrigued her. She let her question hang in the air for a few moments before relenting and giving her name anyway.

"My name is Niamh. Niamh Doherty," she revealed as she finally leaned back in her seat, though her eyes still remained on the girl across from her.

"So, what made you invade my compartment, Rocío?" she teased, no longer minding the intrusion.