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Expulsion was off the table.
Good, Gwen thought. Meant she'd have to spend the rest of the year with Snape and his little mates, facing their consequences and anger for how she'd lashed out at him. At least expulsion had offered an immediate reprieve from facing the greasy gits, or dealing with the tantalizing stares from the rest of her classmates, or when she passed any Gryffindor in the corridor and they all pretended as though she didn't exist.
The last bit, however constant and expected it may have been, always managed to bring a twist of guilt back into the base of her mind.
Perhaps, Gwen thought, she had begun circling the drain when she'd cut her hair. Perhaps it acted as a catalyst to set off the beginning of the end. Cutting off her hair nipped it in the bud—she was heading down a dark path, and, oh, if only she still had her long, innocent, golden hair, then maybe she would still be alright. Maybe she would still be in love with James. Maybe she still was in love with James.
Actually—that last bit wasn't a maybe. She was still in love with James. She somehow loved him more than she ever had before, and in such a suffocating way that she woke up every morning with the overwhelming stench of it burying her alive. Because every time she thought she cared, she was reminded there was no way she could love him as much as he did her. She loved James, but not in the way he needed her to. She loved James, but only inwardly. She loved James, but it wasn't enough.
And loving James wouldn't get her out of the detention she had every afternoon until school let out for Christmas holiday.
Still, she wasn't expelled. And though the prospect of facing Snape's posse every day wasn't very palatable, she figured being thrown in Azkaban for casting an Unforgivable and only being able to find employment through janitorial services for the rest of her life was even less appealing.
Detention began with the usual severity—scrubbing the entire Trophy Room start to finish, using no magic; copying lines five-hundred times; polishing every candelabra in the castle, without the help of the ghosts. Tedious punishments that made her want to pull her hair out, but deserved, nonetheless.
Outside of detentions, the seemingly mutual acceptance between Gwen and James of avoiding each other was clear to all, and within days after the breakup, Gwen's fellow Ravenclaws were going out of their way to make sure and let her know how sure they had been that she and James would never break up, or how perfect they were for each other, how they, the Ravenclaws, had always wished for Gwen and James to get married.
Gwen never knew how to respond to these comments. She hated them, but it was considered rude to scowl. Although she hadCrucioed one of her classmates, so maybe etiquette was long out the window.
Between detentions and classes, she didn't have much free time. Though when she did find herself nary a friend nor a foe to entertain her, her legs carried her down to the lake, though of course she hadn't the slightest idea why so.
