Not currently writing any more
Might rewrite in the future
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"Do you blame me for it?"
Did she? He'd caused her so much pain; he had hurt her so much. He had left for Morgana's sake but did she blame him?
"I blame you for everything."
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Lilith...
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Lilith wasn't having a very good day. Glares and snarky remarks seemed to be following her everywhere she went or people seemed to be ignoring her completely.
Rumours were flying around as to how Sirius Black had gotten in, almost all of them referring back to her in some form or another– whether it was Lilith telling him how to get in or giving him a potion to turn into a flowering shrub, according to Hannah Abbot.
Then there were the first years from magical families accusing her of being a dark sorcerer, muggleborns hiding from view as she walked past after being told that her father killed twelve muggles, and the teachers keeping their eyes glued to Lilith's every move.
In lessons people were staring at her warily, as if expecting her to brandish her wand and summon Sirius Black out of nowhere and kill them all. During meals accusing glances were thrown her way and she wanted it to stop. She didn't ask for any of it yet she was being punished in a horrible, sick sort of way.
She wished, simply, to just disappear, vanish out of thin air so slowly that no one would notice that she had even left. No one had noticed (if they had, they didn't mention it) when she didn't appear in herbology on Friday; or maybe they were just too scared to point it out to Professor Sprout.
No teachers ever went round the back of the school- there was no need- making it the perfect place to do things you shouldn't. It was a dank and lonely place , cigarette butts decorated the floor amongst the strangled weeds, dead flowers and dead grass, gravel and pebbles. Many students had sat where Lilith was, they too had sat there alone, thought the same things and smoked the same cigarettes.
Lilith sat alone, taking a puff from one of the cigarettes she found in a half empty packet that was on the floor next too her, slightly damp from the rain. She had never smoked before. She always thought it was bad; that was until she had felt the relief of taking a slow drag and watching the smoke swirl in mesmerising patterns in front of her.
She coughed the first couple of times, but soon got used to the feel of the toxic air coming from her. Her shoulders ached and her mind was whirring with uncontrollable, whistling voices.
She spent the next two hours she should have spent in a double herbology lesson sitting on the floor, knees bent towards the gloomy November sky where a lonely magpie flew past, alone.
