#the oval portrait could be considered a main character at this point

[victortalkingmachine]

anyway the edgar allan poe characters all have very convoluted roles/stories. i just did whatever with them honestly

[multiversemuses]

☕ (Cori)

@darthvoldemaul

I’m not sure if this counts as much of a memory, really, because not a lot happens. One person stays asleep during the main bit of it so… No one’s calling it eventful, okay? 

But it still means something to me. 

You’ll need a lot of background information first, though, so get comfy. See, Liv had invited me to stay with her for part of the summer holiday. It took some doing, making that happen. My mother doesn’t exactly approve of her children spending time outside of school (or inside it, for that matter) with anyone who isn’t from the twenty-eight. So I cashed in on a favor from Khepri Shafiq. 

Strictly speaking, what Khepri actually owed me was money from an old bet, but I offered to consider us even so long as she’d provide this one alibi. The great thing about Shafiq – besides being a bit of a reckless gambler when she’s thrown back a few too many firewhiskeys – is that my parents cannot stand her parents. And probably vice versa, honestly. My mum and dad will be respectful of them at large gatherings of the families but, as a safe general rule, they will not contact them directly if it is in any way avoidable. Dad thinks Gamal Shafiq is a prattling bore and Mum resents the fact that Shadya Shafiq always catches on to the latest trends and fashions well before she does. They can be a petty bunch, the Selwyns. Take it from one who knows. Personally, I’ve always found the Shafiqs among the more tolerable families in my own’s social circle. Fortunately for me, the feeling was mutual for Khepri (either that or she was just grateful to hang on to the bag of galleons I’d won fair and square), and she agreed to let me say I was visiting her for a while in the summer. It probably didn’t hurt that Khepri’s in Ravenclaw, like Liv. What do you know? House loyalty’s good for something outside of Hogwarts, after all. Anyway, suffice to say, my parents were more than happy to send their greetings and love through me. They trusted that I’d pass along the message to the Shafiqs and spare them the need to send any correspondence owls. Ergo, no inexplicable inquiries would find their way into Gamal’s or Shadya’s hands, nor would my parents be waiting on any letters from them detailing our holiday activities. It was the perfect solution. 

I arrived at the Eldlunds’ feeling rather proud of myself, if you must know. Outsmarting my parents just heightened the excitement of what already promised to be the best part of the summer months. Liv had spent our time apart planning, I could tell, even though she kept the written itinerary out of my sight so that each new adventure could be a surprise. Truth be told, she could have left everything to happenstance and I’d still have seen so many new things. A lot of items in her house alone were complete novelties to me. 

I was poking around her room on that first day and saw a funny little folded box on a shelf. It was pretty easy to open up, but I couldn’t for the life of me guess what purpose it could possibly serve. It had a dark glass circle right in the middle that made me think of those peepholes in the front doors of houses, and there was a long indented ridge at the bottom. I turned the box from side to side in my hands but my grip slipped on this little red button jutting off it. The next thing I knew, it made this godawful whirring noise and spat out a blank square. Liv came into the room just in time to hear me swear creatively and nearly drop the blasted thing on the floor. She made a quick save and caught the box before it could crash to the ground. As she returned the contraption to the shelf, Liv told me its name, and I remember thinking it sounded cold. Polarvoid. No, that doesn’t look right. I’ve added an extra letter or something. Ah, to hell with it, the point is that it was a kind of camera. 

“Is that why it spits out a white picture?” I asked. “It just shows empty space near the ice caps every time?“ 

Liv got a chuckle out of that one. She explained that the blankness of the image was temporary. Liv pulled the square free from the camera and shook it a few times, then placed it down on her desk. I must have still looked pretty skeptical, because she urged me to watch closely and even offered a chair so I could observe with my face right over the photograph. 

Shadows started forming on the square. Colors were unfolding across the white the way that flowers open in springtime. I started to recognize pieces of furniture and decorations from Liv’s room, but they were blurry in contrast to the oval dominating the center of the image. It was my face, caught in an unfortunate just-shat-myself expression. “Lovely,” I grumbled, but that didn’t stop me from staying completely still until every detail of that picture had filled into place. Liv wanted to know what I thought of it. “I’d like them better if they moved so we didn’t have that face immortalized for all eternity, but I suppose they do have the benefit of coming back to you much faster.”

That little incident must’ve given Liv an idea because, the very next morning, she took me out and bought me a gift: a disposable muggle camera. She told me I could use it to remember our visit. Which I did, and I made quite a tourist of myself. The land near her house really is beautiful – flowers, clear water, and so much green. Liv and her mother were very patient with me. Neither one ever barked for me to stop falling behind or tried to stop me from going off in my own direction as we wandered. That wasn’t their way and, although it was nice, it took me time to get used to it. There was so much freedom, not just to explore but also to express. I never felt like conversations were censored at their dinner table or like the real messages had to be hidden somewhere between the lines. They were so open. And happy. I’d never experienced a family meal with real laughter like that, not the forced polite kind at social functions where people are just trying to stay in each other’s good graces. 

The Eldlunds are quite artsy as well. Liv let me try my hand at a little painting. It seemed like it could all go wrong so quickly, and I ended up starting with a single dot on the canvas. Liv had to quite literally take my hand in hers and coax my arm into that first full brushstroke. I loosened up a little more after that and got a bit carried away. Flecks of paint were in my hair and on my hands. At one point, when Liv leaned round to see how my work was coming along, I darted my brush out on impulse and touched it to the tip of her nose. Her mum said it made her look like a reindeer. That struck me as odd since I’m pretty sure reindeer have brown or white fur, not red. Maybe it’s a muggle thing. Either way, it was pretty funny to watch how Liv’s nose twitched a little until she was able to clean the paint off her skin. As for the painting itself, well… let’s call the finished product abstract and let me save face, shall we? 

The one Liv painted of me about a week later was much better (no surprise). She saw me sitting at the window, snacking on a green apple, and asked if she could have me pose for a while. Since that basically required me to stay comfy and keep eating, I was more than happy to oblige. I know that I clearly am no expert at art. It’s questionable if I should ever be allowed to be near a brush or paints again but, even so, I feel like I can fairly say that Liv really knows her stuff. Watercolors seem so difficult to me. Difficult to keep from running, difficult to control the details, difficult not to make your painting one big dripping mess. But Liv does it. Over and over again. And she makes it look easy. When she really got to work on that portrait, I think she became more relaxed than I was. I started overthinking everything. Would I mess up the light and shadows if I readjusted my legs? Should I eat more slowly so she had a chance to get the apple right before I chewed too close to the core? Did I need to keep my head angled the same way? Meanwhile, from what I could see in my peripheral vision, Liv was perfectly at ease. She had checked out and was well and truly “in the zone.” I could feel the weight of her eyes on me, but it wasn’t in a judgmental or critical way, simply studying. It gave me gooseflesh, but I resisted the urge to rub my arms and clear it away. When she’d finished working, I was finally allowed to leave the window and see the end result. I could hardly form the words to tell her how well she’d done. If it weren’t for the fact that the girl in the painting was wearing my outfit and holding the same snack, I’d have argued it wasn’t me at all. Not to say that it didn’t look like me – it did, remarkably so – but she’d made me look… well, a lot of things, really. Thoughtful. Serene. Beautiful. Variations of “that’s really good” felt horribly inadequate, but I could only seem to stammer rewordings of that same sentiment while I stared at this other version of myself who seemed to have it all together much more than I did.

Liv also introduced me to her taste in music. We played so many songs during my stay there. If we were in her room during the daytime, there was music of some sort playing even if it was just softly in the background. A lot of wizard bands reference wizarding world things more than is strictly necessary (have you heard anything by the Weird Sisters?), so it was a little odd at first not to hear the artists comparing themselves to magical creatures or characters from our folklore, but I liked it. Liv wanted me to be able to take some of it with me even after I went back home. She started compiling a mix tape and gave me a device I could use to play it. I’d have to hide the player in my trunk, but it’d hardly be the first thing I’d concealed from my watchful mother. 

I suppose that brings us to the specific memory I’ve been meaning to tell you this whole time. It was somewhere in the middle of my visit with the Eldlunds and, in an extremely rare occurrence, I woke up before Liv one morning. The house was quiet and still; I was pretty sure her mum wasn’t awake yet, either. So I leaned over the side of her bed and scooped up the player with the mix tape already inside. I slid the earpieces into place and pushed the button on the top. The songs Liv had put together for me were so peaceful and relaxing. They were the perfect thing to keep me company in the pale, early morning light with no one else stirring but me. I sat upright with a pillow propped behind my back and looked lazily around the room. My hand started playing with something soft and smooth beneath my fingertips, letting it run across my knuckles and slip through my grasp before picking it up again. I think I was three songs in before I realized that I’d been absentmindedly playing with Liv’s hair. I froze and sort of held my breath. I tried to make sure she was still fully asleep since I was pretty sure that’d be an odd thing to wake and find me doing. Liv didn’t show any signs of consciousness. She rolled over, and that brought her body right up against mine. If it’s possible, I think I moved even less then. I held my arms up, away from her, and just stared down at her face. No, the features were too smooth; she wasn’t faking being deep in her dreams. The sudden closeness was completely innocent and unintentional. Still, I swear on my best crystal phials that I could feel my heart beating in the back of my throat. Prickles of sweat broke out across my forehead. 

That’s when I knew I was in trouble. 

I didn’t want to let myself call it what it was, not yet, but I knew that what I was feeling for Liv went beyond the bounds of the friendship we’d established. 

My arms were starting to get tired by this point. One I was safely able to lower to my side, but the other was directly above Liv. I knew I was going to have to put it down, to allow my skin to touch hers and rest behind her back. But actually doing so felt like a more pleasant version of having your limb wake up after the circulation was cut off from it. I had these tingles from shoulder to wrist. I had to keep consciously telling my lungs to inhale and exhale. 

Oh, this was bad. Bad, bad, bad. 

And yet I couldn’t ignore the heat from her, seeping through my pyjamas, or the way the ends of her hair tickled the crook of my elbow. My hand was shaking the whole time, but I let myself rub my thumb just once across her back, between the shoulder blades. It was a very quick gesture, but it made me choke on my own pulse again. 

Later, when Liv started to stir a little and murmur drowsily, I panicked and tried to rearrange our position. I put my arm behind my head and let the other fall past the edge of the mattress, shutting my eyes and trying to look sprawled out in unconsciousness. I guess it worked. Liv made no remark or sudden movement, except to gently take off my headphones and stop the tape player, presumably so I wouldn’t get tangled in the cord. Her hand grazed my shirt as she lifted the player off my torso, and it took everything in me to keep my face completely relaxed. Then she leaned over me to place the whole thing on her nightstand. It’s a good thing she wasn’t looking down at me because the clench in my jaw must’ve been visible as I focused on keeping my breathing even. She settled back into place and tried to wake me with a soft shake of my arm. I pretended to peek out from behind my eyelids for the first time and smiled at her. The smile she gave back to me made my stomach pull a Wronski Feint.

There’s not much else to tell about that day. Everything was pretty normal after that, and I was trying to be normal as well. I can’t say I didn’t embarrass myself once or twice along the way. There were a few clumsy mishaps: tripping, running into things, dropping stuff. Thankfully, since I tended to let Liv lead the way because she knew where we were going, she didn’t see all of it.

I did do one more thing. Just for myself, just to remember. I was pretty sure I would want it later, and I was right about that. I took a picture with Liv in it while she wasn’t looking at me. I wanted one to keep of her just existing, just relaxing and being herself. I’ll admit, the reason behind it was partly for my collection of photographs from the visit but also partly because of what I was starting to feel. It ended up being a good thing that I took the picture, though. I needed it more than I knew. The following year at school, when things were falling apart, I still had that image to look at and her mix tape to listen to while we weren’t together. It probably wasn’t the healthiest way of dealing with the fact that I was too afraid to go public and she was seeing someone else, but it was all I really had. 

Well, this took a sad turn at the end, didn’t it? It got better after that, I swear. Slytherins aren’t known for swallowing their pride quickly, but I did eventually get my shit together and override that built-in lean toward self-preservation. And you know what? I’d deal with all of it again – the pain, the complete nonsense from some of the people around us (my family included), the loneliness, the fear, everything – because it was worth it. Liv was infinitely worth it. If I had to survive the misery to be happy, I’m fine with calling that a fair trade.