really, spencer did not mean
to fall for her sister's ex-boyfriend.
it just so happens that sometimes
fate decides to interfere and
correct the wrongs.
blaise zabini x female oc
ootp-tdh
warning, this book consist violence
and both physical and em...
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▂✫⌒*･ﾟ
SPENCER BEGINS TO WORRY for one simple reason. Morgana Montague has not yet make her dramatic advance of jinxing, hexing, or cursing her in any way. In fact, Spencer begins to think that avoiding her is not just a one-way street and that her sister is doing the same thing. Except, that's ridiculous, right? The young Montague is not the kind to want to provoke unnecessary anger, but come on, Morgana is quite literally a she-devil. Something is stopping her from murdering Spencer and she wants to know what! Ricky does not agree with her, however. He is quite adamant in not wanting to leave her out of her sight just so she would not go up to her alone. That is how desperate Spencer is awaiting for some kind of response from the girl— there is no way she decided to change her mind after all these years and finally is giving her a break.
"—to get from the dungeons to the Great Hall, she has to pass directly by the Grand Staircase which is where we come from—" Spencer rambles, a parchment neatly place down in the library's table with ink being splattered into it. Her arm became a victim of ink abuse having it be covered in black much to both of their dismays, most specifically Ricky's since he wears a troublesome gaze.
"You're starting to sound like Harry obsessing over Malfoy," Ricky interrupts her long-debates speech, his eyes staring down at the parchment with little to no interest. Spencer parts her lips offended. "What if— and hear me out— we do our homework? Morgana is not going to attack out of nowhere and frankly, we should be glad she has not done anything. Now go cleaned up."
He points his finger to the restrooms inside the library. She glowers silently before deciding he is right and stands up in defeat. Spencer scrunches up her nose in utter disgust realizing that her best friend is somehow right. She seems to dwell on her sister for the reason that she has not been yet tormented. Talk about being overly fucked up in the head.
Cold water drips in the side of her arm, the blackness of the ink scrubbing off slowly all at once. She looks up into her reflection, noticing the difference between how she appeared in her fifth-year and now. Hazel colored eyes staring right back at her, familiar and yet not. There is something about them. Older and possibly scarred, a distinct feature differing from when she first arrived. Her dirt brown hair grew longer since summer arrived— she debated cutting it half past her shoulder, but has not gotten the chance to do so. Well, that and she is not sure if she wants to. Truthfully, she only debates it because of the upcoming war. Her long bits would probably only get caught in the crossfire. Noticing she is letting the water continue running, she shakes her head and exits the restroom, briefly crashing into someone else.
