Lilith (potter_girl) wrote in breaking_point, @ 2010-02-03 11:22:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | *complete, 2025 02, dead character: lily luna lestrange |
RP: Lily Luna
Who: Lily Luna Potter
Where: Her room
When: Barely daybreak
Rating/Warnings: N/A
Summary: Lily wonders about some things.
Lily woke with the sun, a casualty of an east-facing window, and sat up, rubbing her eyes. She was tired. Aching. Sore. Lily pushed the covers aside and swung her feet off the bed, reaching for her dressing gown, then paused as she caught sight of her hand. Fingers, streaked with red.
Lily frowned, thinking, desperately trying to remember what she'd done. There were no cuts, or scratches... Her gaze moved over the things in her room. Dresser with scattered things. Clothes, tossed over a chair. Her trunk, waiting to be moved to the dorms in a couple of weeks.
Her clothes. Lily stood and went to them, picking up the trousers and sliding a hand into the pocket. She found a tiny vial, the inside streaked with crimson. She didn't have to open it to know it was blood, and that it matched what was on her fingers... She grabbed her gown and dashed for the loo, scrubbing her fingers clean before considering the tiny bottle. After a moment's consideration, she crushed it with the handle of her wand and rinsed the shards down the sink. Pink streaks swirled as the last of the blood followed.
What had she done?
She washed her face, staring at herself in the mirror, then returned to her room and locked the door. A leather-bound journal lay in the space under her mattress and she pulled it out, flipping through things she'd written.
I saw Connor today. We met in the bookstore, and he kissed me. It was deliciously dangerous. Even in a Muggle bookshop, you know there are people watching and waiting to run to Daddy...
Another entry, accompanied by a bit of ribbon.
He said my hair was pretty...
She flipped through other pages. A pressed flower. She must not have lost the rose after all?
Lily bit her lip, then took up the quill that lay between the pages and touched it to her tongue.
I think maybe I'm sick. I feel so achy this morning, like I'd been working hard outside, or playing a rough game, but I haven't. Either. And I woke up with blood on my hand. There was a little vial in my pocket.
Maybe it's from Potions? Have we been working with blood? Would blood make Polyjuice change? Why do I have it?
The weirdest thing, though, is that I didn't dream last night. I've been having trouble sleeping, having the oddest dreams, but last night I just dreamed about being pleased. No, not exactly pleased. Proud. Like I'd got a great mark on a test, or Dad said the cake I baked was good. Like I'd done something really good.
No idea what.
I must be sick.
She flipped through the rest of the blank pages, remembering that Remus had said she should write ordinary things, and her questions, and maybe she'd find answers. Sometimes she thought he was even smarter than anybody knew.
She refreshed the privacy spells before putting the journal away. Even if they were silly girl thoughts, they were hers.