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James Potter was a skilled and talented wizard, his name a renowned one amongst Hogwarts students. Many knew him because of his outstanding Quidditch skills, most because of his infatuation with Lily Evans, but everyone kne...
"Trouble, yes," she nodded. "But not nothing, not nothing."
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Tom was right, wasn't he?
Love was nothing but mere muggle nonsense. Nothing but a weakness. A heir of Slytherin was above that.
The thing about not being able to feel love is that it leaves a void inside of you. A void that can only be filled with an emotion just as strong. When you can't feel love, it's easier for you to feel hate. The lack of good and positive emotions make room for an unhealthy amount of darkness to take over. When there is very little light, most of the room is filled with darkness.
And that's what happened to Alexis, who scurried angrily through the halls. Heartbreak had turned to anger.
For the first time in her life, she felt exactly like Tom. And for once, she didn't deny it or ran away from it, she embraced it. She embraced the hatred and the anger that consumed her.
She wasn't being rational, but neither had James Potter, who had probably already ran off to that filthy mudblood.
A lone tear escaped her eye and she furiously wiped it away. She had been willing to give the boy everything. She offered him the best of her, but it was still not enough. She was still not good enough.
Pathetic, utterly pathetic.
She stopped abruptly in the middle of the deserted hallway. Her heart began pounding painfully after realization hit her.
She was just like Merope.
She ran into a new Room of Requirement, one that was warm and cozy, and hesitantly pulled out a locket she secretly carried everywhere, and stared at her mother's reflection. Sad eyes with a plastered smile were the standard look for Merope.
The tears returned, running down her cheeks as she slid down the wall, quietly sobbing. Was this how her mother felt? Was this how Merope felt when she found out Tom thought she was a freak? A monster? Was this how she felt when she saw him every day, knowing that she couldn't have him? That he didn't love her?
Her heart ached for her mother. It was always bittersweet to think about Merope. The love and warm you feel when you think about your mother combined with the repulsion of how foolish and selfish she had been.
But she needed her. Goddammit, she needed her mother.
The day her mother died became the day Alexis was cursed with an excruciating loneliness. She died the day Alexis was born.
Alexis had been so preoccupied with her dramatics, her vision blurred by the tears, she initially failed to notice the red velvet box that was placed on the couch. She approached it cautiously, finding it odd than an artifact that looked so primeval and intricate had appeared on her room.
