Flower Petals

-41-

Paula stared in the mirror every morning until somebody on the staff at the manor came to get her. Until somebody at the table noticed that she was missing and went out of their way to check on her. Sometimes it would happen right in the morning, and other times she would stand for hours in her bathroom, absent-mindedly staring at herself in the glass.

She rubbed ointments and healing creams, casted healing and caring spells on her scar until her wand became physically crooked. Whenever she touched it it would inflame and rise, sometimes it seemed to spread across her face like a flesh eating bacteria.

She had gained a reputation in her youth of beauty, beyond all other pure-blood women, and had assumed when she was forced to do her duty as a pure-blood woman, that she would have her choice of men. Most assumed that she would couple up with Zabini or Nott. She hadn't given it much thought at all and frankly did not give it much thought now. She was tan, olive skinned with eyes as green as aspen leaves in the spring, she had hair like one hundred percent cocoa chocolate and a tall, lean body. She was the Hufflepuff captain of her quidditch team back at school, on route to be head girl and excellent in her studies despite her affection for booze and a good Gryffindor party. She was a prize for any pure-blood boy, but those prospects were dwindling now.

She'd gained a reputation as a stone cold killer. Those who had seen her in the battle at the ministry recalled her body count in the hundreds, almost without the bat of an eye. Her scar was constantly infected and the only way to seize its grasp on her was to cover it with pounds of makeup, which would result in a worsening of the infection itself. She was the last remaining Abbott, but her legacy was becoming more one of cruelty, and less of a true lady.

Paula stared at the mirror.

Alli knocked gently, awake from her own infection. She'd been asleep for sometime, and the duties awaiting her made her anything but excited about the prospect of her future life. Her bedside table was overflowing with dress sketches, curtain designs, flowers, blueprints for a party which she seemed to be in great charge of. Luna swept them away as she slept, planning what she called a 'marvelous party', completely ignoring the begginnings.

Luna was very good at ignoring the bad parts of situations and people.

"Paula?" she asked around the bathroom door. "Love it's time for breakfast."

"I'll be down in a moment." Paula stated "please save me a seat."

The interaction between the two had been somewhat limited. Each time they did speak it was sort of like an awkward dance, where Paula preferred the waltz and Alli the tango. 

"Paula you shouldn't feel the need to maintain any kind of act with me. I know who you are, i forgive you for what you were forced to become.." she said this into silence.

Paula often wondered if it was too late for her to return to Hufflepuff pajamas and sleepovers on the top bunk. Too late for a last second betrayal of her new values, it's what Mason would have wanted.

Draco had been sliding down the good slope for quite some time now,

But Draco had nothing to return to, he had only lived in the deepest and undiscovered part of the ocean under intense pressure and boiling temperatures. But when Paula was dragged there, it seemed she could no longer handle the light, she'd adjusted

"I'm not maintaining anything Alstroemeria. This is what I am." She paused. She didn't look at her, there was another silence that burned Alstroemeria's ears.

"Paulie-"

"Don't call me that." she snapped. Alli sighed. There was a broken texture in the air.