Misery LoVeS its CoMpAnY || Mary

[``helena evelyn berkeley]

Helena sighed, lying alone in her dormitory. It was late on a Friday evening, but Slytherin had just won a Quidditch Match. Naturally, there was still a House Party going on. She had no interest in those things so had decided to go to bed. But, for what? She couldn't sleep anyway. She'd run out of the Sleeping Potion she had concocted and now had nothing to use for her dreadful sleeplessness. It was lucky, however, that she was so beautiful for she could get away with sleep-deprivation and still appear to be so gorgeous. The booming music was no help, either. With another defeated sigh, she threw the covers off of her bed and swung her caramel legs over the side. Stepping upon the hardwood floor, Helena moved over to the window, watching as the full moon's light spilled across the grounds, traveling the distance to cascade across her skin. It was radiant in that light, but she didn't care. She wished she could find a purpose for herself. She rubbed her arms, cringing when she felt the tattoo upon her arm. Her emeralds moved down to it hatefully, the anger in her eyes quite frightening. How could she do this to herself? Why couldn't she be brave like Sirius or Andromeda? Why did she have to be so afraid? Softly, she moved over to her trunk and pulled on a long-sleeved shirt. No one had ever seen her arms bare, but she doubted anyone would want to. It wasn't as if it was a big deal, that was until spring came around. She was always prodded at by many young boys at how little skin she showed in that season. But, she was a lady, after all. She didn't like to flirt, for she was too afraid. If it occurred, it was unplanned.

Flattening out the maroon shirt, she pulled on some tight black jeans, and grabbed her wand. Stowing it in her front pocket, she closed her trunk and then set off down the stairs to the common room, without even taking a glance at herself in the mirror. Slinking through the onslaught of people, she found herself caught in the embrace of a couple of men, one being Antonin Dolohov. He was eager to befriend Helena and she hated it. He knew of her being a Death Eater and she feared that her mother would become friendly with his own parents, causing them to have an arranged marriage. If that were to happen, she would probably find a way to kill herself. She was going to love whomever she wanted, but hopefully it could be someone that was a pure-blood. It would be most helpful. Slipping from the swine's grasp, she threw him a glare and then stepped out of the common room, taking a deep breath. Imbecile, she thought. He had no idea what it felt like to be an actual human being. He relied on lust and thought with his pants more than anything else. Oh, she knew he was intelligent, but when it came to women he was nothing but a swaggering player. But, maybe it was just when he was drunk.

Running her caramel fingers through her black hair, Helena stepped slowly through the Dungeon's corridors, her barefeet making no sound on the cold stone floor. She made sure to stay to the shadows in the hallway but she knew that if she got caught by any male student or professor, she would be able to charm her way out of any horrid situation. She'd done it many times before. The trouble was getting caught by a female prefect or professor. Most of the teachers took a liking to Helena, however, because she had a good work ethic. If they saw her, they usually just gave her a warning. It was most likely the Gryffindors that caused an issue. She blushed at the remembrance of Remus Lupin that night in the Forbidden Forest. Oh, how embarrassing that had been for her! He had probably taken her to be a fool or completely mad! Grinning slightly to herself at the thought, she made her way outside, careful to stay light of foot so as to keep her sneakiness at full alert. The moment she stepped outside, a cold burst of wind struck against her, but she felt nothing. Her numbness overpowered her feeling and she simply sighed. It had been like this for the longest time. She could feel no chills, nothing but fear and sorrow burrowing in her heart. It was pathetic, really, but she supposed she'd just have to live with it. It'd gotten worse with the death of her beloved grandmother. Her mémé . . . But, the tears did not come to those stunning emeralds. She had cried too hard the first couple of nights after she had learned the news. Never would she break in such a public place as the outside. There could be watching eyes. She must appear to be all together. She rolled her eyes, clenching and unclenching her fists as memories forced themselves into her brain. Stepping closer to the lake, she stared into the black liquid almost longingly, her green eyes searching for a relief. What if she were to get underneath of the water, just for a fragment of a second? But, what if she drowned?

She doubted anyone would notice.

[/size]

[``mary flora macdonald]

Mary was bringing a whole new meaning of ‘drowning one’s sorrows’. She had spent the last hour and a half, fully clothed, under a steady stream of shower water; her fingers were even starting to get prune-like. She was sulking. Gryffindor lost to Slytherin in the Quidditch match. Normally, Mary wasn’t such a sore loser, but the outcome of the game wasn’t the only thing upsetting her. No, the Gryffindor chaser was upset at how easily she had left her guard down and ended up in the hospital wing, early game, due to a bludger. It wasn’t a rogue ball either, but a bludger strategically aimed at her by the Slytherin beater, Mulciber. The hard object had hit her in the gut, knocking both the wind out of her and her broom out from under her. Luckily she hadn’t been too far off the ground but still ended up with a broken leg and bruised ego; both hurt like hell. Madam Pomfrey was about to fix the break in moments, but insisted Mary needed ‘rest’ after “such a nasty fall”. Mary rapidly, repeatedly and bluntly refused to take any sort of break when her team was in a match against a bunch of dirty-playing Slytherins. Reluctantly, the nurse allowed Mary to return to the game on the condition Mary promised she wouldn’t join in. The brunette agreed, planning to break her promise as soon as she reached the field. There was no need, for as she arrived back to the field, the teams were already leaving the locker rooms and the stands were empty. Judging by the way her fellow house mates dragged their heels, she knew Gryffindor lost. No one blamed Mary, but she still felt responsible. This is what all brought her being alone in the field’s washrooms after dark.

The water turned cold, so Mary grudgingly concluded that was her cue to leave. She dried herself off and pulled on a pair of comfortable jeans and warm blue sweater and left her previously mud covered Quidditch robes to air dry in her locker ; her wand was stashed upstairs in the trunk at the moment, so she couldn’t magic-dry anything. Leaving the pitch and realizing how late it much of been, Mary couldn’t help to realize how she seemed to be always be out late without her wand. She knew something like this should bother her, what with talk of a war rising in the gates outside Hogwarts, but she felt oddly at ease. She was still moody and disheartened at how she had contributed to the loss against their biggest rival house, but also felt in awe at how gorgeous the grounds looked bathed in moonlight. She glanced up at the speckled sky and the ever changing ball of reflected light. Was it a full moon? No, no. Mary reckoned she saw a disfigurement in the round moon and figured it must either be close or on its way out. Preparing to make a stealthy dash up to the common room, she noticed the silhouette of a figure by the black lake. She stared at it for a few moments and thought it looked to jump into the waters. It was too far to figure out who exactly the person was, so she ended up walking closer to the girl.

Mary didn’t know what was probing her to intrude on someone’s solitude. Perhaps she was just feeling for some company in her misery. Deep down the Gryffindor knew that she just plainly didn’t want to go to the common room. If one thought she was in a glum mood, wait until the rest of the Gryffindor team was considered. They normally didn’t take great to a lost game, but to Slytherin made it worse. The entire house was likely to be in a state of negativity. She didn’t want to go back and hear the gruelling and brutal details of the match or answer any awkward questions about how she was feeling. The longer she prolonged her return, the more likely they were all asleep and would partially be in happier moods the next morning. Reaching the figure, Mary was disappointed to realize she didn’t recognize her. The only thing she could recall was that she was a fellow seventh-year, for she remembered sharing classes with her. Prejudices in mind, Mary hoped she wasn’t a Slytherin. For one, Mary and Slytherins just didn’t mix. There was one point in time where Mary attempted being civil and polite to them, but every time it ended with hexes and curses wanting to be thrown at one another because of the snake’s pureblood belief. For two, Mary didn’t want to be seen talking with a Slytherin. She worried what her house would think. Although she did her best to hide it, Mary cared a great deal about what others thought of her. Of course Slytherins could just shut their traps about her, but it was the house that she belonged to and accepted her for being a Muggleborn that she strived for constant approval from. Gryffindor and Slytherin were rivals since the founders created Hogwarts (or so the story went) and it didn’t seem like that would stop anytime soon.

Regardless, she slowly sat down a foot or so away from where the dark-haired girl was standing. ”Hey,” she simply greeted. She peeled off her socks and shoes and rolled up her jeans as far as the fabric allowed them to go. Bending to do so was a bit of an effort for her body was still slightly sort from her tumble. She allowed her feet to dip into the shallow waters, enjoying how the semi-cool temperatures felt on her previously broken leg. ”You look ready for a dive in the waters or something,” she bluntly pointed out raising her eyebrows questionably. Remembering watching her clench and unclench her first earlier she sincerely looked up at her asked, “Hey, are you alright?”

[``helena evelyn berkeley]

Helena could hear the footsteps coming closer and closer to her, her ears ringing with the noise. How could someone not realize her misery and still they dared to come near her? Was her facial expression that obvious? With the footsteps padded across the grass, Helena couldn't make out who it could be that was growing nearer to her. She could only decipher one's steps on marble floors and the like. She found it rather difficult because the gentleness of the ground could hardly capture the full effect of someone's footsteps and swagger. And, depending on if they stepped lightly or hard was a key factor in figuring out who was nearby, but it was silenced by the green blades. Throwing herself out of such analytical thoughts, she turned her head slightly, those angled-downward emeralds meeting the doe-brown eyes of Mary Macdonald. Helena's breath caught in her throat. The pretty girl in front of her was a Seventh Year Gryffindor and the half-Veela had never had luck with them. James and Remus had been the only ones who had given her a chance. Would Mary? For some reason, Helena doubted it. Sometimes, the chasm between the two houses was too deep for most of the people in them. Noticing a shine of anxiety in the curly head's expression, Helena attempted a smile. It came out as more of a grimace, the usual sight when she attempted to grin at someone or something in particular. But, hell, she didn't feel like smiling at the moment. She had lost everything she had held dear. She had no friends. Her parents saw her as nothing but a little puppet doll. What did she have to keep on going? Her ambition, perhaps, unless someone else gave her an idea of something else.

Blinking rapidly as she watched Mary sit down without a word, Helena allowed her own body to fall gracefully to the grass. Her emeralds stared up at the full moon, it's glistening silver rays cascading down across the grounds like a blanket. With a monotonous whisper, she murmured, "Hello, Mary." She gave the girl another half-smile, the pain drifting through every pore in her body. Noticing the slight strain int he Gryffindor's movements, Helena figured she was probably emotionally and physically sore from the game she had just lost. But, before she could say anything on such a matter, Mary's words hit her like a torrent of glass, its shards cutting her into pieces. With a mirthless laugh, a laugh that she had not uttered since she had been a child, she turned her face back towards the sky. She had never been a fan of laughter for she saw the sound as obnoxious and irritating. Hell, she could barely smile. How could she even chuckle with any sort of humor accompanying it? What did she find humorous? "Am I so unambiguous in my expressions? I would have thought that most of the students here refuse to find the answers in a person's face or eyes. I am surprised at your revelation, but most impressed." She stopped, biting her lip. She was deciding on whether or not she could trust this girl, this girl that knew nothing about her but had decided to venture near despite a possible warning going off in her mind. Sighing, she whispered. "Think of me as you wish, Mary, but I am not the happiest pureblood. One would think that someone born with such wealth, beauty, and status would have everything in the world. One would think that I would be selfish, wishing to harm those below me in birth when in fact they are the people that I feel most comfrtable around. I do not see them as beneath me . . . It is quite the opposite actually. I know that they are far above me, better people than I could ever be." She knew that Mary probably would leave once she realized who she was sitting with, but Helena needed to talk to someone. Bottling her feelings up was beginning to take its toll on her. She could feel her sanity slipping away by each second. In the moments she realized that she could do nothing to change her life to be in the direction she wanted, it pained her ever more. When she heard Mary's question. No, she was not alright. She felt cold and completely separate from everyone she encountered. She was completely alone in this endless darkness. She felt as if this wasn't real. It had all just been a terrible nightmare. But her logical brain knew it to be true. What was she to do except give into the madness?

"I have lost everything."

[/size]