Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
chapter twenty-eight. ( we never truly know the ones we love )
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
IN LIFE, WE'RE SOMETIMES FORCED TO DO THINGS THAT WE DIDN'T PARTICULARLY WANT TO DO. Life can lead us in completely strange routes that we may have never intended to go down, but, in the end, everything always falls into place.
Ascella Black was living life as though she were a ghost.
She drifted through her days with a permanent frown etched across her lips, her shortened hair brushing just below her shoulders while she made her way through the bustling streets of Muggle London. The humid heat was prominent on bared skin, freckles splattered across her tanned arms and shoulders.
A difference was evident in Ascella. Summer, in a way, had changed her. Her hard-edged facade was sharper than ever, since a smile hadn't graced her expression before the third task. There was no shame in it, Ascella believed, because how could she be happy when Cedric Diggory laid six feet under, leaving behind his beloved friends and family, and she was allowed to walk freely?
Ascella ignored the pointed stares she received when she lit up a cigarette between her lips, an intoxicating scent of smoke invading the surrounding areas. The stick of tobacco had become a significant piece of her wardrobe, the bitter sting of smoke making up for the shattered parts of her soul.
Twelve Grimmauld Place was a clear description of hell. With its nasty exterior of a haunted house, many simply tend to avoid the building entirely. The inside was another story, though. In spite of the grime climbing the walls and cobwebs leaving their mark on the house, the ghosts that roam within the pipes of the house were far more terrifying than the bugs that ran across the wooden ground.
