shadow of a doubt | d.m

2

Azkaban. Azkaban. Azkaban.

The place they deserved most. To perish insufferable damage for all the lives they stolen. Her hate for them grew stronger every single second they spent, soaked in disgust by every single person.

Her mind went blank. She sat, relished in spare distraught as she gleamed across the railing of the tippy top of a tower. Holding nothing but a bottle of fired clear whiskey. The muggle version nonetheless.

The life of hers that she slowly took time to study, plan out and examine was now a pile of jumbled puzzle pieces. Consisting of her failing, attempts to put back together, struggling to put them in backwards, just to see if they fit.

Because even the smallest sliver of success would cheer her up.

The moonlight dimmed bright opon her hair, the ends blowing stripes across her face. She struggled to maneuaver the locks back into place, conjuring a hair tie out of thin air with the simple use of magic.

Simple magic. One thing she did miss. Before using any killing spells, any stunting charms, but to something like a witless rubber band.

Her hands fumbled with elastic as she gathered her hair into a sloppy ponytail. This action seemed to be quite complicated for her intoxicated state. The bottle of liquor dropped straight from in between her thighs and shattered to the ground.

"Fuck." She whispered.

Her head turned over to stare at the completely wasted bottle of elixir, now spilt on the torn grounds of the school.

As she seemed to quickly flash her head back, nothing went unnoticed. A normal scene. Yet she gave the impression of a double take when she perceived to have a visitor.

Theodore Nott.

His body revolved forward, eyes closed as if he was breathing the midnight cool in. His hand grasping the colored version of whatever wizard alcohol he had. His mouth took large swigs of the liquid.

Devyn's quriosity in this drunken state seemed to wondered what type he was swallowing, how he could bare such huge sips. How it didn't burn the back of his throat as it did hers.

"Like to stare, Frost?" Notts voice was scratched, his fingers held the bottle lightly. Offering a bit to her. He swirled the liquid as he rose the flask to her.

She stared for a minute. Astonished maybe, or could be consideration to taking this stupid proposal.

By surprise, her nimble fingers advanced to take hold of the metal container. She moved it to her nose, smelled of bitter liquid, the bold aroma causing her stomach to quease.

"Not your average butterbeer." Nott quipped, his tone coming off as a joke perhaps but his facial expression reckoned all seriousness. Suppose there was no room for a light hearted laughter.

Devyn stayed quiet. Her mouth opened to a small degree and she did the unexpected. Her hand tipped the burning liquid to her tounge. She swished the fluid around, letting the sensation fully embrace her.

Theo observed her, sat close by, as they both said nothing. But drank.

No doubt she was absentmindedly taking swigs form the flask, while passing it back to him every few minutes. Was there a question roaming around her fleeting mind? Absolutely.

"Why are you back?" Frost's hand rushed to cover her mouth. She asked the most obvious question there was to ask. Her words running faster than her mind.

"Same reason you are." Nott said, his mouth half full of liquid.

A heavy scoff slipped out. Theo turned to survey her.