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Messages - Althea Smallweed

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1
"He's tough enough alright, besides"

Althea did not even bother to reply to that comment, for she was sure that the girl could not understand. No one could. In truth, the girl was just being dramatic, but she had always thought that no one could imagine how it was to be like them. They were all tough (even Tawnie was probably tougher that some of the students of that castle), but none of them were tough enough -- and they would never be.  "You can never be tough enough." Eventually, she spoke, a short scoff following her words.

Smallweeds -- they spread and grew, invaded and fought, but perhaps they were doomed to remain small.

(--she wanted to change that.)

"He's quite selective."

This time, she just laughed. Did she genuinely believe her words? "Honey, he's fourteen," And had developed a crush on that dreadful Helen Kane basically since he set her eyes on her for the first time. "Fourteen year old boys ain't selective." She loved her brother, but the boy should really stop kissing all lips he came across with.

2
"He does have a tendency for trouble, your brother."

"We're Smallweeds, trouble always finds us," Some, like her, were able to deal with it a bit more elegantly -- Jeremiah on the other hand always seemed to make some of the most problematic situations even worse (--and Alfie and her had always been there to try to fix the mess). That was what the older siblings were for.

"I love him you know, he's like my brother here."

A grave mistake. Any hint of kindness she could have been planning on expressing towards the girl faded as soon as she dared to say those words. "He's got enough sisters already," She snapped, voice as emotionless as always, casually gazing towards her painted nails (--pink this time, Jere had chosen the colour) as she spoke. She was not as bad as people said, but she could be. "I don't care about heartbreakers, perhaps that will toughen him up."

A partial lie, while she believed that such thing could certainly make him grow up in some way, the girl that dared to break Jere's break would have to face the wrath of the seventh year.

(Maybe that was why the boy had always been so reluctant about Pearce.)

3
"if it involves me stopping being friends  with your brother, you can go to hell,"

She rolled her eyes, did the girl intend to seem intimidating? "Ain't as bad as people say, darlin'." All throughout her seven years at the castle, the girl had accidentally harbored a not exactly good reputation for herself -- and during all those seven years she had pretended not to care, and at some point she had stopped caring. She could be kinder, she could be nicer, but then she would stop being herself.

The first emotion that she had known was her father's disappointment (-- had she been a boy, things could have been different perhaps), one could not simply expect her to be surrounded with a constant aura of happiness when the need to prove herself was one of the only few things she cared about.

"If it's anything else, I'm all ears."

"Jere," She began, gazing around the Great Hall in case the boy was there and she had not seen him. "He'll keep doin' stupid things next year, just try to stop him before he gets himself killed." Being a sister and the closest thing to a mother the three younger Smallweeds had wasn't, and had never been, an easy task. Mainly because she had been just a kid herself at the same time.


4
"Yeah, I am. He's my best friend actually, why do you ask?"

Best friend. Friends. Acquaintance: She didn't care at all (--best friend was quite a childish concept in her opinion, even if she had claimed Louis to be her best friend back when she was still a second year). "Whatever," The Head Girl waved her hand dismissively, as if that extra piece of information was just delaying this whole conversation that she would rather end as soon as possible.

(--she needed to pack some of Andromeda's nail polishes and lipsticks before the girl could pack them, she needed to refill her stolen stash of make up before she stopped sharing a dorm with her co-captain.)

Momentarily gazing  towards the girl's plate, after exactly three seconds she looked at her brother's friend or best friend or whatever the girl was supposed to be. "Will you do me a favor?"

5
It was her last week, her last week ever at Hogwarts. And while she would never claim that she would miss this place (--emotions, feelings... they were just weaknesses one could not simply express, the perfect targets for potential attacks -- it was safer to pretend to have no emotions at all), she would.

She would miss the patrols, the walls, the thrill of the Quidditch games, the lingering taste of victory after winning the cup that... but no, she would have to return home, to take care of Tawnie and finally give Alfie a break. Get a job, grow up -- there's no time to figure out life when you're a Smallweed -- or at least that was what she had always believed.

Speaking of Smallweeds, she would miss them to, more than anything perhaps, Micah, Phee and Jere; not seeing them everyday would feel unreal, the opposite of a daydream, a real nightmare.

And Jere, she would not be able to keep an eye on Jere, and only Merlin knew what could the boy do if she was no longer there. It was that thought what brought her to the Great Hall, no hint of reluctant as she walked straight towards Lecia Dorset, taking a seat by the girl's ask without even greeting her first.

"You're Jere's friend, aren't you?"


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