''𝙅𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙞𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙨𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙖𝙡𝙡. 𝙄'𝙙 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬- 𝙨𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙣.'' Loving you was the most exquisite form of self destruction.
- VOLUME I of the HOUSE OF B...
''After all it didn't matter if Estella wanted to go through it or not. She had no choice. It was do or die. ''
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• ── ≪ ✧ ◦《✩》◦✧ ≫ ── •
THAT NIGHT ESTELLA DIDN'T FALL ASLEEP. Instead, she let Pandora drag Sirius back to the Gryffindor common room with a flick of her hand and then summoned up a broom and brush to clear up the spilled liquor in the hallway.
The armour would be easy enough to clean up later. It was the glass that needed disposing of first.
Now, under normal circumstances Estella would've drawn her wand and cast a cleaning spell over the lot and caused the mess to magically vanish within seconds, yet the her anger needed an outlet and cleaning the mess manually, fitted the bill.
The vigorous action did wonders for the brewing feeling in Estella's chest and two hours later the corridor was spotless, probably even cleaner than when she first arrived.
Unfortunately, despite what many claimed, Estella Black was indeed human and had momentarily allowed tiredness to envelop her when nearing the early hours of the morning.
Whilst clearing up the last of the glass shards, her numb hands had overlooked a shard and now the morning after, Estella's skin bore a nasty slice down her inside wrist.
The funny thing was, she didn't feel the pain at all, it was like her entire body had turned numb, immune to feeling after the long night spent cleaning up the hallway.
Scrub, rinse, sweep, repeat, until every last drop of liquor, shard of glass, and piece of armour was gone. Vanished.
Scrub, rinse, sweep, repeat.
Scrub, rinse, sweep, repeat.
Scrub, rinse, sweep, repeat.
• ── ≪ ✧ ◦《✩》◦✧ ≫ ── •
Now, why James was walking down into the bowels of the castle, right down to the dungeons, Merlin only knew. For the only thing that deep down in the castle was the Slytherin common room.
Despite how he'd hoped he wouldn't remember last nights events, on the contrary, James remembered them vividly.
He remembered how he'd mocked Estella while she'd stared stonily back at him. How he just wanted a reaction out of her, something, anything.
How he'd wanted something out of her so bad that when she had no reaction to his cutting words ''all hail Estella Black, queen of loneliness and spite,'' he'd smashed the empty bottle of Firewhiskey clean on the floor, the glass catching on the inside of his wrist and leaving a nasty scratch.
