splotched

Tiny Nothings (SQ story) Part 1

Lost moments between Emma and Regina as season 6 progresses.  

                                               The Saviour

To others I’m… a hero. They’ve seen my strength, my ability to do the hard things even when I thought I couldn’t.

Regina just blinked when she opened her door, her eyes falling on squared shoulders and resolute expression, nervous-looking eyes and twitching fingers, blonde hair cascading down a back she knew far too well and an accent she also recognized far too well muttering her name and just a simple request: “Can I enter?”

And she just looked so beautiful, so dauntingly precious that Regina felt her heart beating faintly as she tried to take a breath, as she tried not to step closer into Emma’s space and hug her. Hug her like she had been about to do on that haunted apartment. That, however, wasn’t the moment and as Emma’s green eyes focused on her own- emerald irises glazed with unshed tears as red splotches covered her cheeks and neck - she knew she wouldn’t be able to step closer, to come closer to the woman she seemed about to fall apart and yet looked about to turn and run, run and never look back.

She had heard the words, the hushed rumors being tossed and repeated like a mantra as she had tried not to listen to them; how Emma’s walls weren’t nonexistent anymore. She, however, knew that the openness, the one Snow and David seemed unable to not look at, was just another kind of walls. Walls that were invisible to the untrained eye and yet Regina saw painfully clear as she licked her lips and hug her midriff, Emma all hard planes and convenient shadows in the middle of her hall. Walls that were created and were honed by the notion, the belief, of not being able to be anything else but what she was.

“I’m afraid” Her eyes screamed, clear, loud, her posture unnatural and her hands tightly closed at both of her sides. To the brunette the blonde made her think about the savior she had once saw as her own conclusion, as her death, the one she had seen in nightmares and the days after the first curse had been lifted; the one that wasn’t supposed to be but yet was. And that perhaps hurt her more because she now knew Emma, the Emma that believed in people and was open to fight with whatever she had and would yes, do reckless things but kept standing over and over again. And those traits hadn’t appeared because of her title, because of her name and title, but because she was, as she had put it all those years ago, a decent person. The kind of one that was rare and so painfully fascinating Regina felt her own hands clenching into thin air, nails digging on her hands as she did so.

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Here's a thought:

What if the Hogwarts sorting process is less about who you are, and more about what you need?

The sorting hat sees a boy thrust into a new world he barely understands, a boy desperate not to blend in with the crowd, and a girl who would sink as deep into her books as she is allowed, and says- what do these children need? They need courage. The courage to keep moving forward despite overwhelming circumstances and high stakes, the courage to see themselves as heroes, the courage to speak up and speak out against injustice.

The hat sees a lost girl whose world has been shattered, who can’t be bothered to fit the world she sees to others’ standards, and says- what does she need? Knowledge. The knowledge of how and why things happen, and the wisdom to accept the things she cannot change.

The hat sees a boy desperate to fill his father’s shoes, used to getting his way and confused at a world that works differently than he was taught. The hat says- he needs power. He needs an identity that will remind him that he has worth, that he can be more than he is.

I wouldn’t want to attend a hogwarts that sorted based on what universal human trait I exhibited most often. I wouldn’t want to attend a hogwarts that sorted similar personalities into uniform groups. I would want to attend a hogwarts that sorts based on its students’ needs, doing its best to help them succeed.

When dumbledore says, “perhaps we sort too soon,” maybe he sees the good that a little bit of courage, instead of a sense of self-worth inflated into superiority, could have done Severus Snape.

Maybe the most dark wizards come out of slytherin because, despite their house’s best intentions, they never quite find the confidence they need there. And it is the unsatisfied, those most disenchanted with the system, who seek to destroy it.

Ambition is about going after what you want. What in that is evil? Selfishness is about understanding that you yourself have value. What in that is evil? Cunning is about creativity, quick-thinking, rolling with the punches and paying attention– what in that is evil?

Do you know the sort of evil you can do in the name of fairness? Do you know the sort of damage you can do with bravery, with not knowing how to back down, not knowing how sometimes there is a need to give, to adapt? Do you know how you can cut with cleverness, what sort of scornful superiority can live in those high towers?

These are stories about choice. You choose your House. You choose how to live your House. Be brave, be cunning, be fair, be curious– all of those have their dark wizards. I refuse to believe otherwise.