***Falling~~~open

[dorcus]

I watched silently as the leaves swirled around me. I was used to being alone and today wasn't an exception. Three students, obviously younger than me, chatted animatedly laughing and giggling together.
Now there was one word I hated. Together. Ugh. I was never with someone and never would be! Why did the world have to tourture me by having to watch everyone be so happy?

[Krista Yaxley]

Most Gryffindors are a an annoying pain, but when you watched this one . . . It pained you, just to look at her. Dorcus Meadowes, otherwise known as Irene sat alone on a small yellowing, grassy hill. Leaves swirled around her as she watched three younger students chatting and laughing, with narrowed eyes. Irene's head jerked away from staring at the younger girls, blinking and instead relocating her eyes to stare, blank faced out at the late reding afternoon sky.

I've always seen Irene sitting alone somewhere never surrounded by a group of friends. You can never tell what she's thinking, with most people you can just see their thoughts right off their face's, but this girl. Dorcus Meadowe's has a closed mind, protected in some way. Never letting more that she wanted out to the open, to the public eye.

I have been studying, or more of observing this 5th year Gryffindor girl with quite alot of interest. Debating on whether to go over and sit with her, talk to her for a couple of minutes. Maybe even strike up a small relationship, a bond with her. Irene who was alot like me, similar in so many ways.

I too had very few friends and the only one I was comfortable with even speaking to was Maxwell Avery. We had been friends since his 3rd year at Hogwarts and my 1st, but since we had started school that year, him in 7th getting ready to graduate and me in 5th. Our friendship had been rocky, but I hope it will work out in the end, everyone happy and everything would turn out just fine.

But Irene, had no one like that, or no one I knew about. No one to tell your secrets to, no one to let all your feelings out to when you where sad. You couldn't help feeling sorry for this 5th year girl, having no one to talk to, no one.

My head snapped up out of my train of thoughts, breaking them into pieces, by someone who was calling my name. I looked around, bewildered, rubbing my eyes to clear them so I could see who was trying to get my attention. As my vision cleared, I glanced around for the owner of the voice that had shouted out my name.

After a while of searching I had come to the conclusion that no one had yelled my name, no one had wanted to talk to me. That was just my imagination acting up, trying to convince me someone liked me, someone thought a little of me, someone wanted to talk. No one would want to talk to Krista Yaxley though, 'the goth girl of the school', 'slytherin's loner', etc. All of the nicknames, given nicely to me. As I said before me and Irene are similar in so many ways, there are so many I could name, it would take me years just to think of them all.

After that stroke thoughts I gained the courage to go over and talk to Irene, after the feelings of whole sorrow for her. I didn't want someone else suffering the same way I do everyday. If I can do something about it I don't want anyone feeling like I do, I don't want pain to come to them, to anyone . . .

I clutched my books tightly to my chest, took a deep breath and walked up the small hill where Irene sat, still alone. She didn't even look up when my shadow fell over her, probably used to not even worrying about people approaching. When I collapsed down next to her that was only when she turned her head slowly to look at me, to see who I was. It was like she didn't want her eyes to vary from that spot on the sky she was so intently staring at.

"Hi . . ." I said, tentatively, holding out my hand in greeting. "I'm Krista, Krista Yaxley. And your, Irene Meadows?" I felt like a complete idiot! How stupid, she probably already knew me, heard my name in some of the latest gossip that was spreading like weeds across the school. But I kept my hand out confidently, waiting for her to say something to shake my hand.

In so many ways we where a like, so many. How nice it would be to talk her out of her misery to give her a friend, me. We could save each other, it would be great . . .