Wednesday Morning, 5 A.M. {Sam Snape}

[Gilbert Thompson]

As soon as Gil got Sam's rely, he smirked. He knew that she was rather conflicted about how she felt about him (whether she should hate him or treat him like a brother, which he always thought went kind of hand-in-hand. Sibling rivalries and all that), and it always entertained him.

Then again, he wasn't exactly the stereotypical Hufflepuff; most of his close friends were Slytherins as opposed to other members of his House. Of course, there was always his brother, and Gil knew he could count on Rafe for ... pretty much anything.

Recently, though, he'd been pretty ill, which was why it had been a while since he and Sam had gone running. Granted, he knew that part of the reason she ran was to get rid of anything she'd managed to eat, but well, it wasn't really his place to say, "you shouldn't do that."

She knew that he worried, she was sure, but he wasn't about to try to tell her what she should do; that would make her hate him.

Without setting any sort of alarm, Gil woke at 4:30. Perfect; he had plenty of time before he was to meet with Sam in the Entrance Hall.

Stifling a slight yawn, Gil slid out of his bed and into his running gear. It wasn't the typical yellow and black that most of the Hufflepuffs would wear; his outfit was Slytherin green and a yellow that was more gold in its coloring than anything else.

Once most of his gear was on, he plopped his bum onto the floor of his dorm to lace up his trainers. It had taken him a few minutes to find them; he usually wore his uniform, and trainers were not part of the dress code.

Entire outfit acquired, Gill stood, raising his arms into the air in a brief stretch.

All of this had taken less than fifteen minutes, but he headed down to the Entrance Hall anyway. Yes, he was early, but that was fine with him; he could get himself stretched and warmed up before Sam showed up.



((Yes, that is a Simon and Garfunkel reference. ^^))

[Samantha Snape]

Sam had been up most of the night, as her insomnia had plagued her greatly during the hours between lights-out and when she was to meet Gil. Of course, as always, it wasn’t just her insomnia which had kept her awake. She had always had what seemed like voices in her head, but in recent years they had grown louder, and more numerous. At times, she could silence them easily. Tonight however,

::fat/stupid/ugly/fat/whore/fat/dyke/fat/freak/fat/useless/fat/baby/fat/good-for-nothing/fat/failure/fat/lazy/fat/weak/fatfatfatfatfatfatfat::

she had been unable to silence their litany of her failures and shortcomings. Oh, she knew of ways, but all had been exhausted, and all had only succeeded in making them louder and more insistent. Ana and Mia, as always, had been at the front of the chorus. And then, she had gone for her last option. Finally, the voices were silenced. However, it had taken the glint of moonlight on a blade and on her blood as it ran in rivers down her forearms. Normally, she wouldn’t have cut this deep, and yet… Nothing had been normal since that day in the kitchen, when her father had discovered her secrets.

As such, she had begun to get ready at 4:15AM. On any normal day, she would have only taken fifteen minutes to get ready – ten for a shower and five to dress – but today was different. It was more difficult, one with her forearms bandaged and painful, and two because she had needed to reapply the color to her hair. The brilliant crimson had begun to dull, looking somewhat like dried blood, and as such the dulling of the hair itself had begun to become visible. So, she was finished with getting ready by 4:45, at which time she made her way to the entrance hall.

As usual, she wore black bicycle shorts, a green sports bra, and grey running shoes. Unusually, however, was how her hair was done. Normally, it would have been in a messy, yet somehow still put-together-looking ponytail. Today, she wore it in a tight braid. This was for two reasons. Firstly, it would make the fact that her hair was becoming brittle and dull much less obvious for a good while. Secondly, it would keep anymore from falling out, is her hair was wont to do when she brushed it lately.

Of course, if someone were to tug on it, things would go from bad to worse very quickly. Sam could just see the person whom tugged on her braid coming away with a good amount of her hair in their hand. And, as her luck was usually rotten, Gil would end up being just that person. Though he normally knew when talking was okay and when she just wanted him to shut-up, there were times when he tried to be funny. Those times almost always ended in disaster – well, the ones concerning Sam herself did, anyways. The bad thing about the fact that Gil was sure to be tugging her braid at some point, however, didn’t really have anything to do with the Hufflepuff himself.

It would, however, more than likely be quickly brought to the attention of the two people the redhead would like to keep it from most. This would be one Madam Pompfrey, and her father, Severus Snape. The latter would be bad – in every sense of the word – but it would be more shaming. After his reaction to what he thought was the extent of things, Sam had made carefully sure that the true extent of things didn’t reach his knowledge. As for the latter… If the Medi-Witch were to know, Sam was sure her prefect badge and her place as Slytherin’s Chaser – and thus taking her out of consideration for prefect next year and also the Captaincy – wouldn’t be the only things she would lose in a heartbeat.

Suppressing a shudder at the thought, the redhead forced herself not to imagine being shut up within the psych ward at St Mungo’s. Removing the irrelevant thoughts from her mind, the tall Slytherin made her way over to Gil and also worked on her stretches. She could feel his gaze on her arms, but kept resolutely silent. When she did speak, it was short and to the point, just slightly overshadowed by the large clock striking 5:00AM. "Let’s go." And then she took off, jogging lightly to get her muscles warm. Once this was accomplished, she would choose a spot, they would take their positions, and at a signal held within their minds, the two would take off on their circuitous run of the grounds.

If Gil wanted to talk, he would need to do it before their run/race truly began, or he’d be literally eating her dust.

[Gilbert Thompson]

If Gil had known anything about what the voices in Sam's head had been saying before, he would have resolutely protested. He wasn't attracted to her in that way, but he would reassure her quite honestly that she was quite lovely. Ridiculously thin, at the moment, but lovely. None of the doubts that she had about herself were correct.

He'd had his suspicions about her illnesses for quite some time (the anorexia was painfully obvious, at this point, though), and the bandages on her arms merely served to confirm his suspicions.

And her hair was different today; she usually had it in a ponytail, but it was a braid today. Hmmm, there had to be a reason for that.

He smirked a bit as she approached, doing a few more stretches himself.

"No ponytail today, eh, Red?" he muttered, very gently tugging on her braid. What he hadn't expected was just how brittle her hair had gotten. This whole not-eating thing was not getting any better, clearly.

Gil was going to have to try to talk to her about that (she wouldn't want to hear it, of course, but he would try), but now was not the time.

Right now, they were going to go running. And Gil knew that they weren't really that talkative, at this point. Running time was for running and silent companionship; they would talk later.

Taking a deep breath, Gil followed Sam, doing his final warmups at the same time as she did.

Instead of responding to her curt words, he merely grinned, nodding. It was time to start their run/race. It had been a tie, last time; it would be interesting to see the results today.

[Samantha Snape]

Had Sam known what was running through Gil's mind that moment, she probably would have done a mix of yelling at and curing him. However, she she didn't, she simply smiled in greeting. "Hey, yourself," she replied. Her tone was amicable enough, though not particularly warm.Her precious little warmth was reserved for certain people, and as she was still somewhat on the face about Gil, she wasn't going to give him something she was still not completely convinced he deserved.

And then, just as she had predicted, as she was in the middle of turning away, the Hufflepuff had tugged at her braid. Though she wasn't facing the correct direction, Sam could all but see the hair falling from her braid in a rain of interspersed strands of scarlet. Her reply this time was cold. "No, not today." She said nothing more, but just finished up her stretches, said that they were to go, and then jogged a bit to warm up her muscles.

This done, the tall fifteen-year-old picked a spot, and waited until Gil had come abreast of her. Once he was beside her, she dropped nearly to a knee, her left leg extended just slightly behind her. Placing both her hands - steepled on her fingers - at both sides of her right foot, the Potion Master's daughter waited until Gil had also assumed his running position. Once she was sure he was positioned correctly, the black-eyes Slytherin counted down.

"Three... Two... One... GO!"

And they took off, as if the gun had truly sounded, starting their race.

((Soooo short... T^T...))

[Gilbert Thompson]

Had he known what would have happened when he tugged on her braid, Gil never would have done it in the first place. He stared at the strands of hair that had come loose into his hand for a moment, utterly at a loss. If she was starting to lose her hair, too, things were getting really bad. Gil desperately wanted to go talk to her father about it, but he knew she would never forgive him if he did. This was something he was going to have to talk to Rafe about; his brother usually gave pretty good advice.

But now was not, apparently, the time to be thinking about such things. Sam had already assumed the runner's starting position, and Gil did the same, plopping down next to her so that they were starting at the same place.

He tensed a moment before she said go, but then he was off like a shot. Yes, he was good at most of his academics, but one thing that Gil was really skilled at doing was running. He could do long distance, short distance, endurance, etc. But the Wizarding world didn't really have much of a place for runners. Which was why he was thinking about trying out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

Shoving the thoughts of Quidditch and other things from his mind, Gil put his concentration back on his breathing; he needed to breathe properly in order to get up to and maintain his best speed.

[Samantha Snape]

As she ran and the burning set in, Sam just concentrated on the path ahead of her, and the glinting gold blur that was her cross as it bounced on her chest as she ran.

Sam kept up her pace as well; she didn't run to get better, she ran to push herself – to get rid of what she knew shouldn't have been consumed in the first place. She knew that if she burnt more than she took in, she would get closer to the goal she desired. She may have been sick in the head, but as soon as those digits went double, she'd know she was close. Running got her closer to that goal, but it also gave her time to think. When she ran, it drowned out the voices inside her head. it allowed her to be free for more than a few moments. It allowed her to forget the constant battle she waged within her own mind.

It also helped her deal with her emotional issues. If she were feeling frustrated, she ran. If she were dissatisfied with something she'd done, she ran. If her father was being particularly cold, she ran. That was how she dealt with her emotions. She also ran when her heart got the better of her. When she looked at a beautiful woman for too long, or if she ached for her father to look at her with something more than indifference again. When that happened, she ran. She ran and ran and ran - she ran until she could run no more. She ran until her body gave out, and still she staggered to her feet and continued to run.

Some might have called her a coward, some crazy, but she knew that she ran for only one thing.

Progress.

Whatever Gil or any of her friends or anyone else, really, thought of that, she couldn’t be so sure she even cared at all.

((Methinks this is becoming a character introspection thread… For the moment, at least.))

[Gilbert Thompson]

Gil ran next to Sam, keeping even with her pace. He probably could have gone a bit quicker, but well, this was a run full of silent companionship. Yes, when it came down to it, he could be competitive, but at this point, he wanted to be next to Sam to make sure he could try to catch her if she fell.

She didn't have much meat on her bones (hell, she barely had enough to keep her moving, let alone running), and he wasn't about to let his friend fall without at least trying to help.

And that went for more than just this run. He was still debating whether or not he should talk to Professor Snape about Sam. From what he'd gathered, her father at least knew about the situation now, but did he really know the full extent of it? Either way, he felt like he should talk to Professor Snape, just in case.

At the same time, yes, he was scared that Sam would hate him if he talked to her father without her knowledge. He'd rather have her hate him than get worse.

She wasn't really talking to him about things, right now, though. Then again, she only talked to him about things sometimes. Maybe it was because he was a Hufflepuff, maybe it was because he was a guy, but whatever it was, he hoped that she would let down her barriers a little and talk to him. He did really well with talking to people, when they gave him a chance.