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tw: mentions of family violence and toxicity, blood and injury tw: dilfs and milfs
IT WAS A WIDELY KNOWN FACT that Jocelyn sucked at sleeping. She only truly slept at school because she didn't want to be a nuisance to her roommates but now that she was home, she could do what she does best.
It was currently 2:49 am, a week into the Christmas holidays and Joss was finishing off her school assignment. The assignment was to paint something, anything and then enchant it to represent the seasons of the year.
Jocelyn's idea was to create a windowsill; she thought she would enchant the window to move with the weather but alas that wasn't the assignment. So she kept the windowsill idea but added a vase of flowers.
As the seasons go through, the flowers turn, age and change colour.
For Spring, she planned on turning them pink as they fully blossom, for Summer, they flatten by the slightest amount and turn a warm yellow, for Autumn, petals begin to fall as they melt into an orangey-brown colour and finally, for Winter, the plant shall fully die, with a layer of snow laying on top.
She had to work on the flower and vase last, but to pass the time she began the background. A crescent moon sat in the sky, among stars scattered around it. The white framed bay window was opened as its curtain moved amidst the wind. A light lavender cushion sat on the bench as a silver, transparent vase remained on the sill, with only a grey lead sketch of flowers sitting in it.
She had a good feeling about this painting but now it was 2:58 am and she was extremely messy.
Her dark curls were in dutch braids and her slim, ivory fingers were splotched with different colours, such as shades of blue, purple and white. Her glasses were on the tip of her nose, afraid to push them up with the amount of paint that stuck to her hands. She bore a large Gryffindor jumper, that she stole from her brother as well as pyjama shorts that weren't visible underneath the red and gold fabric.
She tiptoed downstairs, walking through the Potter manor. The plants moved softly as the 15-year-old walked past silently.
Sighing, she opened the tap steadily, scrubbing her hands together. As the water in the tap slowly turned a midnight blue, a knock travelled through Jocelyn's ears. She became still with anxiety, who would be coming here this late? She thought to herself. She prayed it wasn't anything like that time Dorcas and Lily forced her to watch a Muggle Horror movie. Maybe it was an animal? Or hell, it was probably the wind. But she refused to find out. She began walking back to the stairs. It was silent for another minute before another knock.
She groaned noiselessly, moving to the shelf where she and her brother's wands were stored. Grabbing her own, she gripped it tightly. She looked through the hole, there was nothing there but a black shaggy dog. A sense of familiarity hit Jocelyn, as she slowly unlocked the door and opened it.
