"All I wished for was to not be a Slytherin. Pure blood supremacy was woven into the material of those jade coloured ties and I would rather strangle myself with one than wear it."
After returning from her time spent on the run, Lyra, unruly, sarcas...
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The night was quickly drawing in and the sun was halfway from disappearing behind the rugged mountains that lay beyond the Black Lake.
Allowing myself to relax, I sat down, leaning my back against a Boulder that lay a few meters from the waters edge.
The gentle lapping sound of the water eased my muddled mind and silence of the twilight gave me the opportunity to emit any tension or built up stress from my body, as I slouched against the cold stone and stuck my legs out infront of me.
A huge sigh left my lips as the sharp wind slashed at my face. A few song birds were finishing off their chorus for the night while the night drew in.
I took a moment to revel in the stillness of this place compared to the bustle of the main school, or the mayhem that was called the Slytherin common room. For here, there wasn't any bitchy sisters or snide stares from the Pureblood children that greatly disapproved of my disruptive reaction to being an Emerald. There were no disapproving comments made under people's breaths, nor were there any messages written about me on the girls bathroom wall -all of which were really starting to eat away at my self confidence.
There was no one.
Just myself. The way I liked it.
"Agh FUCK." A voice interrupted my perfect quiet. And I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I realised who's voice it was.
"Shit on it." He groaned again, then a large thud sounded across the silent shore.
Still hidden by the large Boulder, I peered round the rough edge of the rock to see Malfoy.
Malfoy on his knees, clutching his side.
My brows furrowed in shock and confusion. This was bizarre.
"Shit, where's my wand." he muttered to himself in the semi darkness, as he frantically rummaged through his pockets.
But it wasn't just Malfoy. It was Malfoy smeared in blood.
Was it his own blood?
Was he bleeding?
I watched as he practically crawled over to the edge of the lake and dipped his handkerchief in the cold, icy water. He then proceeded to attempt to clean the blood off his face frantically. Harshly rubbing at his blood stained eyebrow and burst lip.
He was still in his Slytherin Quidditch robes and the more the light faded the less clear he was becoming.
"Ah fuck." He winced, lifting us his robes and inspecting the large purple bruise developing on his side.
In the little sunlight that was remaining, I could just make out the bruise that was Turing yellow around the outsides.
