Vulnerability || George Weasley

Cliché Feelings

She felt embarrassed, humiliated as she pushed through the bodies of dancing students back towards the table she had previously been sitting on by herself. Had Jerome only ever showed interest in her because of what she was? So that he could make her change her appearance into something that 'suited' him. Well that wasn't going to happen, she thought bitterly as she grabbed her heels from under her seat and shoved them onto her feet. That wasn't going to happen for anybody, no matter how incredibly good looking and charming they may be. What kind of blunt jerk would say that someone? Even Lee wouldn't dream of being such an inconsiderate blighter.

Her eyes travelled around the dance floor and she couldn't help but feel, alone. She loved to be alone, to be with her own thoughts, but there was nothing more Phoenix Lancaster hated and feared than feeling alone. There was a large different between the two. Feeling left out; forgotten, insignificant was something Phoenix hated. A lump rose in her throat as she stared down at her mother's dress and she felt more alone than ever – her father had been betraying her since the age of three, it seemed as though boys were only interested in her for being a Metamorphmagus and now her friends didn't even realise how alone and miserable and pathetic she was feeling, though she didn't blame them.

Feeling as though she would rather not cry in front of the entire school, she made her way out of the hall and towards the oak front doors. The outside of the castle was even more beautiful than the inside. An area of lawn had been transformed into a sort of grotto, full of fairy lights (one of Phoenix's favourite things) – which meant hundreds of real life fairies were fluttering around the rosebushes over statues of Father Christmas along with his reindeer.

Phoenix walked towards the grotto and sat down on a vacant bench after she cleared it of snow. It was cold and she shuddered, it was still snowing and the warmth she had felt inside the hall had vanished. A cold tear ran down her cheek as she pulled out her wand, conjuring several metallic butterflies that fluttered around her head.

How could she even think for a minute that her mother's dress could make this night special, make herself special. She felt like an incredibly melodramatic teenage girl, crying away from a party over a stupid boy. She almost laughed at how ridiculous she felt, but then remembered that that wasn't the only reason. She wanted to believe that her father had done the right thing but then, she thought savagely, he couldn't bear to live with Phoenix's condition so he had the memories of her mother wiped to make himself feel better.

How could he keep something like that from her for over thirteen years? What father takes away his daughters memory and doesn't even allow an explanation afterwards? Doesn't even tell her?

"Phoenix?"

She jumped at George's voice and quickly wiped away any stray tears as he sat down beside her. "What are you doing out here? You must be freezing!" He hastily took off his robe and wrapped it around her shoulders, leaving him in his white shirt and black trousers.

"I-I needed to get out, too hot," she mumbled, forcing herself to not look at him, but instead at the collar of his shirt. "Why are you out here?"

"Let's see..." George scratched his chin thoughtfully, "All of my friends are with their dates and if I remember rightly, you said that we could fifth wheel together. Also... I know when you're upset Pixy."

"Is my nose too buttony?" She asked George before she could stop herself.

George laughed for a moment before he shook his head, "No your button nose is rather cute, why?"

"Jerome," she scowled at the mention of his name, "h-he said that it was too buttony,"

"You're not going to change the bloody shape of your nose for him are you?"