God is Dead | James Potter

1 | THE NIGHT OF THE SPOILED PUREBLOODS

disobedience, in the eyes of any one who has read history, is man's original virtue. it is through disobedience that progress has been made, through disobedience and through rebellion.
— oscar wilde.

trigger warning; domestic violence (physical/psychological).

THE SMELL WAS UNDOUBTEDLY burning her nose, as well as her lungs, and the confines of the bathroom weren't making things any easier.

"Master Lovina should not do it, no– no... Master Lovina should not... Master Lovina should think, what will poor Mistress Selwyn say? What will poor Master Selwyn say? Oh... no, oh no... Milly must not... Milly does not want to think..."

"Bloody Salazar's sake, Milly." Lovina interrupted, with a roll of eyes, "Quit worrying, won't you? It's me who'd have to do that, not you."

"Oh, but that is what Milly does, Master. Milly worries for her Master. Master Lovina should have thought better. Master Lovina should have thought better before she got those muggle products and applied them to her hair... oh woe, oh woe is Milly..." The small house elf shivered erratically, grabbing both of her long, pointed ears, pulling on them anxiously.

"Don't do that," Lovina commanded, and Milly hesitantly let go of her own ears, foot tapping the ground while she fiddled with the scarred fingers of her hands.

Lovina would have to admit, maybe it wasn't just the smell burning her lungs, her scalp stung from moment to moment, the brown colour of her hair writhing in pain the more it absorbed the bleach— or maybe it was the peroxide? She could hardly understand anything the muggles said, but sure enough– her hair was turning lighter than yellow, if she peeked under the silvery foil.

Her heart had beaten wildly in her chest when she could finally look at the results, and Milly had let out a distressed wail. "It's the muggles! They've done this to Master Lovina's hair! It was those filthy muggles!" She was practically sobbing, as if she'd just witnessed a tragedy unfold... but, it was, to the house elf.

And Lovina found herself agreeing, amidst her panic. She could hardly recognise the person looking back at her in the mirror, and it was all thanks to the muggles. Those filthy, mundane muggles had done that to her.

...and yet, had they, really?

"It's just hair," Lovina said, and the girl in the reflection moved her mouth alongside her, "Milly, quit that." Swiftly, she was back to moving around, this time reaching out for the tube that held the colour pink captive.

"Oh, woe is Milly." She continuously mumbled, wiping her nose on her worn out attire.

It didn't just feel like hair, though.

For years, Lovina would stare at the portraits of the family, and in that time, she'd found a certain similarity, all members were pale-skinned, in a way that did not seem to shine, but rather become one with the shadows of the room. The hair, the hair was always dark, carbon black hair, or a reserved, oak brown, as had been hers.

Lovina glanced inside the room, lights off, while the portraits snored away. Her skin, while undeniably pale, held a golden undertone, one that would never allow her to blend into the shadows. Her hair had now faded into light blonde, combined with sweet, pastel pink, spread along the lower half. Merlin, what a creepy room to have.