Going back to Hogwarts for his final year brought a lot of conflicting emotions upon Church. For one, he had gotten over the injustices of his ex, thus making him happier over all. It made him less cold and apathetic towards others. More sociable, really. Of course on the downside of this was that he had sort of forsaken some of the newer people in his life. Honestly, he did feel bad about all of that, but at the same time he figured it would be for the best. He wasn't the same as when he left last term, so he didn't plan to act that way.

Church sat alone in a compartment towards the back of the train, dozing lightly as it headed towards Hogsmeade station. Originally he had intended to spend the time reading, he had a stack of books to get through, but the first one was so boring that it put him to sleep. Why he ever thought a Divination book would be interesting was beyond him. Oh well, too late for that now.

As the train jostled around the sleeping Ravenclaw slowly began slipping out of his seat. All it would take to hurl him to the floor was one good bump. And that's exactly what happened. Church woke with a start, finding himself in a heap. "What the hell is with this train?" He muttered, untangling himself. It certainly seemed like every time he was on it he wound up on the floor. AS he picked himself up he heard the door to the compartment open.

Hmph. Maybe it was Jazz.

Outfit.

It had been a rather long summer break. With her father completely distant from her in his attempt to punish her for taking the car to London, and her complete lack of competent friends, she grew rather bitter with everything. She was rather used to the fact that she didn't have many friends, period. But the fact that the few she had were pretty much ignoring her... Murphy wasn't angry. She didn't get angry and remain angry. She could hold a grudge, yes. But... She wouldn't relive her anger until she stood before whoever she held the grudge for. In which case, her bitterness would paint her face sharp and she would slice them open. A proper apology could calm her down, but there were times where Murphy couldn't forgive and forget. Such as her father never stepping up to help her, or her ex-boyfriend utterly destroying her name. She was able to forget those horrid memories well enough, though. She was a collected girl. Even if she did break behind closed doors every now and then.

But Murphy practically prided herself in her ability to hold herself together. Even after Johnny and her mom and her incompetent friends. She didn't need friends. She figured that they were just busy. Or that she was back to having no friends. Either was okay for Murphy. She was an accepting girl. Most of the time. The day to go back to school was rather pitiful for her. She rose up, rubbing her eyes in a daze and scraping her tongue against her teeth. She forgot to brush them the night before, so her mouth tasted horrid. When she remembered she had to get ready for the train ride to Hogwarts, something flopped in her stomach; a jagged pain of pathetic resentment. No one bothered to speak to her all summer. Knowing a lot of her fancy, pureblood friends, they were probably busy. Or they were hiding the fact that they were friends with a muggleborn. But... There were some that had no reason to ignore her. She would have to see them at school and she would have to pretend she wasn't a tad hurt from their neglectfulness. Murphy was incapable of feeling hurt. She only felt indifference and irony.

She had to floo over to a place near Kings Cross, as usual. She didn't wish her father a goodbye, as he was sleeping and probably would have pretended to still be sleeping if she called his name. He was a lot like Murphy in that sense. He could keep a grudge for a long time... But if she gave him a, "I'm sorry, Dad," he would be like butter and forgive her. Not to say they would have a sweet, pristine relationship. But they would be like how they were before. Murphy had pride, despite looking like a self conscious wreck. And it took her a bit to apologize and mean it. She would likely owl him while at school, which was always easier for her. Her dad could never hold a grudge against Murphy, anyway. She looked too much like her mother. Her hair was getting a little scruffy, almost brushing her shoulders, before she cut it the night before the day she left. She cut it much shorter than usual, barely touching her earlobes. She liked it short. She liked looking like a boy. Murphy's face was too feminine to be a man, too tall to be a boy. But she did make people double take as she walked through the station. It probably didn't help that she was wearing clothes meant for men, too.

Murphy had tucked her belongings away on the train, her cat mewing furiously at her as she swung him absentmindedly in his cradle. "Shh, Whiskey," She muttered to him, but he was determined to annoy the shit out of her. She had to find an empty compartment. Being Murphy, she somehow managed to be late even though it took her less than five minutes to get to the train. But Murphy was rather slow that morning. And she didn't care much if she missed the train, anyway. This year seemed like bollocks, as the tournament didn't seem interesting to her. She would consider submitting her name, but Murphy wasn't the fondest of competition. She could kick ass, yes, but there were much more able students than she. Murphy's eyes traced the compartment windows as she passed by, remembering her last train ride. When she was coming home from Hogwarts, she met a rather pompous fellow named Church. Who just so happened to be one of the incompetent jerkhole friends of hers. It was a shame, really... Murphy had grown to like the boy. She made him laugh and he was ever so pleasant...

Her fists tightened and she heard a bang from the compartment ahead of her. Nonchalantly, she glanced in as she passed by. The compartment was empty, save for the dork who fell out of their seat. They hit the floor, rather hard... She couldn't help but wonder if they were bleeding. She cursed herself, inwardly, for forgetting her camera in her bag. But that didn't mean she couldn't stand over the student and watch the red substance trickle. Murphy's favorite color was red. Shocking and morbid. A symbol of masculine power. A symbol of evil. Murphy painted a lot in red. And she enjoyed blood, of course. But that was a given. Anything that involved harming a being interested Murphy. Of course, she wasn't very prone to causing blood to spill, herself, but she was more than happy to release a mortal of their crimson liquid, if tempted. She would make a fabulous vampire. But alas, she enjoyed garlic too much. Murphy began to open the door, her cat mewing haphazardly as she did so. It wasn't until the door already began sliding that she realized who the body belonged to.

As cruel fate would have it, Church Comer was residing in the empty compartment. It was too late to walk away and pretend she didn't see him. It was too late to close the door and pretend to be someone else. She was supposed to be friends with Church. Although he clearly didn't commit to such a title, Murphy felt as if she had an obligation. She was supposed to be his friend. Even if he was shit. Perhaps Murphy could piece together what they once had. It was such a short period of time, anyway. She had no reason to be so upset. She had to calm herself down.

She presented herself, silently, and closed the door behind her. Blue eyes examined Church like liquid. Her facade of indifference was marvelously acted out and she considered if she was meant to be an actress. She sat her cat down on one of the empty seats. The bald beast purred with contempt, but was much more calm now that he wasn't dangling before the unforgiving ground. "Comer," She greeted easily, but her spidery fingers began to twist themselves into a sad fist again. She was pleased to see her friend, at the least. Perhaps it was the fact that she was grown so fond of him. A schoolgirl crush, for lack of a better term. Church had held her attention from that day they met at the diner and onward. She liked his laugh... She liked the way he looked at her, even if there was nothing to it. It was just the way he looked at everything, mostly. She liked it when they first met, too, though she couldn't admit it to herself. She dwelled on his eyes, mostly. She liked them the most. Pure obsidian. Black circles that she found herself tracing throughout her daddling doodles. She could see herself in them. She could see herself with Church. Perhaps that was why she felt so personally hurt from his lack of responding to her.

But Murphy's duties as a friend surpassed those of a potential lover. There was no potential love between Church and her. It didn't exist and she wouldn't allow it to exist. Church wasn't her type. He was too trusting and welcoming of her. She felt uneasy with a boy that could make her feel so at ease within their second meeting. She made him laugh... That was probably how he got into her head. Innocent flirtations turned from mirth to frustration. In other words, Church confused Murphy and she didn't like it, so she had decided to remain his friend. But if he wasn't even going to try and attempt a friendship, why would she bother with it? She forced her fingers to relax and the corners of her lips twitched.

"I suppose you haven't gotten my letters?" Murphy asked, a tint of rose lining her cheeks, startled by her own words. But nevertheless, she stood her ground. Whiskers fell quiet. Murphy remained calm, however. But she felt bitterness rise in her like acid. She suppressed it. He had to have been busy, that was all...

Turning, Church expected to see his Gryffindor friend and by that expectation, he did. Of course, he had expected it to be Jazz, not Murphy. He didn't mind Murphy being here, truth be told he had missed her company. After she left London he had expected to get a letter or two. But no such luck had come in the post, so Church figured she was busy and didn't press it. Not like it mattered, considering how he had pretty much been asleep for twenty hours a day after that last run in with Jeanette. Spent just enough time to get over everything.

"Oh, hey Murphy," he returned, noting that she had used his last name. It was slightly odd, considering the last time they had spoken she used his first name. Still, it was probably nothing. This was Murphy, after all. She had a habit of being odd. So Church simply gave he a small smile and sat back down.

For a moment he eyed the cat on the seat, as it stepped closer to him, sniffing. Of course all that stopped the moment she spoke again. Letter, huh? So she had sent some? "Nope," Church admitted lightly. "Figured you got busy back home and forgot to write. I would have written you but I ran into a complication where I couldn't manage to stay awake longer than it took to eat." He gave a small shrug before adding, "Sorry."

The blood left her face when he called her by her first name. It was much too personal for her tastes, for being such an impersonal relationship. A part of her wished to tell him not to call her by her first name. Address her as Urquhart. They weren't the same as they were when they last met. A callus had formed over their friendship. Whether he felt it or not, Murphy didn't care. She was looking to pick at it, but that would only leave it raw and exposed. She could tell he didn't feel the tension she felt. But that was probably because he didn't develop the same feelings Murphy had. That was always how Murphy's love life ended up. She would like a boy who had no interest in her besides friendship. And she would have to smile and accept it. She would make a horrible girlfriend, anyhow. She was much too emotional and frantic when it came to romance. She wanted a boy who actually wanted her back, not someone who wanted a relationship. And, sadly, she had a tough time finding someone like that. Murphy wasn't likeable in the dating scene. If she wanted a boy, she would have to doll herself up. That was bullshit and she would never make herself do such a thing.

Murphy found herself detesting every aspect of Church, now that the bitterness had settled in the back of her throat. She realized she was being melodramatic, that she needed to calm down. But she hated the way he looked at her. She hated the way he even looked at her cat. She hated the way he looked. She hated the way he spoke and the way his lips moved when they formed words. And most of all, she hated his eyes. Ugly blotches of brown, tainting everything they looked at. She felt sick to her stomach. This was why Murphy hated liking guys, she always overworked herself. But her expression remained poise and cool. They were friends. She placed a hand on her cat cradle and tore her gaze away from him, toward the window. She wondered if it were too late to walk out and pretend she never spoke to Church. Being Murphy, it was never too late for such a bizarre, ballsy move. But... She couldn't force herself to move.

But what was she thinking? She was being so irrational. Very unlike Murphy. Romance was vile in that aspect, it made people irrational. Romance was filthy. Never worth it. Murphy should have learned her lesson with Johnny, but there were too many dark haired boys out there for Murphy to ignore. She couldn't help her taste in men never changed. She still liked them foreboding and self confident. She still liked them careless to her emotions. She still liked utter douchebags who needed a punch square in the jaw. Murphy attempted to settle herself down before he answered her... And, of course, she hated his answer.

"Figured you got busy back home and forgot to write. I would have written you but I ran into a complication where I couldn't manage to stay awake longer than it took to eat."

Her brow pinched and she tilted her head, eyes settling back on Church. What a bullshit excuse. Church was always on about how he had, "Oh man, so many problems." He was a bit of sissy, as it may. Murphy, herself, hadn't the biggest problems, and she learned to cope with them rather well. But Church would mope and whine and had the worse sense of humor. He was a leech, looking to suck out everyone's happiness for himself. And he what he lacked in happiness, he gained in confidence. His persona of being the best was nothing but a ruse. He was pathetic. Murphy couldn't believe she felt so empathetic for him before. Blue eyes bore into his cheerful disposition. She hated how he looked so happy compared to the last time she met him. She liked it when he was grumpy and pathetic. She liked it when he wore his mask of arrogance. But... Seeing him well and thriving threw those feelings away. She wanted him to be as emotional as she was at that moment, but it seemed to be that he was much more lighthearted than she. She wondered if what she thought of Church was simply a facade, too. That he wasn't really all that deep and poetic. She wondered if she had been played. Or if Church was just happier than her...

Either thought disgusted her.

"Complications?" She asked, her innocent voice still drenched in friendliness. However, her expression was definitely out of place. A mixture of disbelief and boredom. "Please, elaborate, Mr. Comer. I'm interested in whatever bloody complication forced you to be so bedridden, you couldn't manage to even send a courtesy letter."

Church ignored her obvious facade of kindness. Looks like it's back to her being bitter. Fine, whatever, he could live with that. So long as she wasn't outright cruel, she could be as bitter as she wanted. Her sarcasm wouldn't go unnoticed, however, no matter how hard she tried to coat it with her tone. Like she even cared what had happened to him.

"Mononucleosis," Church said shortly. It was probably true, after all. He wouldn't put it past Jeanette to have the damn virus, and it would explain why he felt like dying for about a month. Couple that with a paradigm shift and the cold he had already had in July and it put him down for a while. "It was fun, really. I love feeling like I'm going to die for thirty days straight," he said in a bored tone. "I highly recommend it."

With a sigh he shifted his weight, stretching his legs out. "I only left my room once before the fifteenth, and that was because Jazz went missing and her mother asked if I could go check Diagon for her."