Of course I've got time. And I can get drinks, if necessary. It's not an imposition at all.
I've been staying in a spare room here in Gryffindor, a little off from the main dorms. I could give you directions or just come to where you are and walk you here. Whichever you prefer.
A few minutes later, Psyche stood at the door to the Gryffindor common room, chatting with a faintly distracted air with the Fat Lady. She was barefoot, wearing a simple white dress, and the expression on her face was somewhat concerned.
Susan had been using -- abusing, to her mind -- some of the family talents quite a lot of late, specifically the ones about walking through walls and not being seen -- the better to avoid people as much as possible, especially after her conversations with Johnny (disastrous) and Stephen (upsetting).
Thus her trip from Ravenclaw to Gryffindor went entirely unnoticed until she reached the Gryffindor common room door, where she knew Psyche would be sure to see her, even if no one else did. She rounded the corner and, seeing her friend, waved.
Psyche stepped forward to meet her. "It's good to see you," she said, smiling and holding out her hands. "Come on, it's just through here and up the left staircase...oh!" She turned to the Fat Lady in the painting. "Sereminia, dear, this is my friend Susan Sto Helit. Would you mind letting her in whenever she wants to visit? I can promise she won't abuse the privilige."
"Of course, of course," fluted the Fat Lady. Psyche smiled at her again, and then opened up the panel for Susan to step through.
Susan felt a slight tremble in her lip as she took Psyche's hand, but smiled nonetheless. "Thanks so much. You have no idea how much I appreciate it." She stepped through the passageway and waited for Psyche to follow.
Susan nodded, thoughtful. "Yes. It amplifies whatever one's feeling in the first place, doesn't it? And then the next thing you know, you're standing in the lane and you're ... half-gone already." She took a long sip of wine and leaned back in her chair. "And the entire time, you know, there's this little voice in the back of my head positively shrieking at me, telling me to get out and calling me all sorts of unprintables. It's one thing to be a fool, really. It's another to be a sensible person doing foolish things."
"You do rather pride yourself on being sensible, don't you?" said Psyche with a curious little smile. "The word has two meanings, you know: the more common one, now, connects to 'common sense,' but the older one...like 'sensibility'...is 'capable of feeling.' The root of both is sense, itself." She took a sip of wine, and tucked her feet up under her. "The thing of it is, everyone's a fool at some point. Nearly every possible human action...or inaction, for that matter...can be foolish, depending on the situation. If I were you, I'd worry more about whether something is wrong."
"You're right about that," Susan said gloomily. "The thing is ... you see, remember the couples betting book? I bet a pittance on Teatime and Johnny C, because at the time it was funny to me. I just got a payoff." She shook her head. "And you know, I tried to ask Jon -- Teatime about it. As directly as I could, without giving away that I knew. He insisted it was all right. That he and Johnny knew where they stood with one another." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I talked to Johnny, you know. Well, sort of, anyway. He was ... very sarcastic. And I think I deserved every word of it."
"I suppose that depends on what part of your behavior the sarcasm was directed at," Psyche said mildly. "Which of them do you believe? If either? And what is it you think you know?"
"I'm sure." What, here, would constitute a betrayal of confidence? Even if it wasn't something Teatime had confided exactly? "I think," said Psyche cautiously, "he certainly has observed that there's something people...talk about having, or feeling...something that colors their actions...that he doesn't have himself, or understand. Most of the time, I think, he's convinced it's something he doesn't need...that he's just different, and on the whole superior for lacking it. But he is so very...curious, you know. I think the idea of missing something other people have...bothers him. At times."
Susan looked thoughtful. "That would be a side of him he's not revealed much, at least not in so few words. The idea that it might bother him, anyway. Of course it wouldn't be, though? He'd see it as a weakness, and instead would prefer to ... feign it? Guess at it?" She sighed.
"Oh gods. You know, I think I understand him a little better now ... and I'm starting to understand myself a little better." Wry, self-deprecating smile. "It's not helping me decide what to do any more quickly or easily, though."
Psyche answered with a similar species of smile. "No, I suppose it doesn't. Sorry about that." She put her chin in her hand. "I'm not even sure that my perspective isn't just a little skewed, you know, by wanting to believe the best of people. By believing in their complexity before I believe in their evil. And I can't...read minds, you know. Just...see souls. Which encompass more than...might be consciously or unconsciously present at any given moment. They're sort of...outside of time...oh, now I'm just talking shop about things I can't articulate at all."
"And I can't tell you what to do. I just think...you can stake your life, you know. You can even stake your heart...no, no, I'm not saying that's something you're doing at the moment...but." Psyche rubbed her face, exasperated at her own lack of eloquence. "Look. You don't need to be ashamed of things that you can't control. No matter what anyone else says or thinks. You shouldn't be ashamed or afraid of being whatever you are. Because if you are...then you
( ... )
"I don't think I've had enough," Susan said, setting down her half-empty glass. "But I ... I think I see what you mean. I've been ... yes, ashamed. Afraid. In my bleaker moments, disgusted at what I wanted. So it was much easier to pretend I was gaming the system, as it were." She shook her head. "Seeing it clearly doesn't make me any happier ... but it does make me feel a little more internally consistent."
"I like your perspective, I have to admit," she added. "It's not that I believe the worst of people, in general; I just ... don't really have very high expectations. Of course, I also tend to believe that I can actually do something to improve things despite said expectations ... and there's the optimism talking again."
Comments 66
Of course I've got time. And I can get drinks, if necessary. It's not an imposition at all.
I've been staying in a spare room here in Gryffindor, a little off from the main dorms. I could give you directions or just come to where you are and walk you here. Whichever you prefer.
Yours truly,
Psyche
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Thank you so much. I can meet you outside the Gryffindor common room, I suppose, and we can go from there.
-Susan
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Thus her trip from Ravenclaw to Gryffindor went entirely unnoticed until she reached the Gryffindor common room door, where she knew Psyche would be sure to see her, even if no one else did. She rounded the corner and, seeing her friend, waved.
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"Of course, of course," fluted the Fat Lady. Psyche smiled at her again, and then opened up the panel for Susan to step through.
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"I'm sure." What, here, would constitute a betrayal of confidence? Even if it wasn't something Teatime had confided exactly? "I think," said Psyche cautiously, "he certainly has observed that there's something people...talk about having, or feeling...something that colors their actions...that he doesn't have himself, or understand. Most of the time, I think, he's convinced it's something he doesn't need...that he's just different, and on the whole superior for lacking it. But he is so very...curious, you know. I think the idea of missing something other people have...bothers him. At times."
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"Oh gods. You know, I think I understand him a little better now ... and I'm starting to understand myself a little better." Wry, self-deprecating smile. "It's not helping me decide what to do any more quickly or easily, though."
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"And I can't tell you what to do. I just think...you can stake your life, you know. You can even stake your heart...no, no, I'm not saying that's something you're doing at the moment...but." Psyche rubbed her face, exasperated at her own lack of eloquence. "Look. You don't need to be ashamed of things that you can't control. No matter what anyone else says or thinks. You shouldn't be ashamed or afraid of being whatever you are. Because if you are...then you ( ... )
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"I like your perspective, I have to admit," she added. "It's not that I believe the worst of people, in general; I just ... don't really have very high expectations. Of course, I also tend to believe that I can actually do something to improve things despite said expectations ... and there's the optimism talking again."
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