꧁𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣꧂ 𝙅𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙋𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧

~One~ 𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝘽𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙁𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨

Four years later

Year five

Two weeks before Christmas break

TW   Abuse, smoking

꧁~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~꧂

Valencia's POV

I am a master of the art of the mask. Now, most people may say that's very far from a good thing, but in my case, I think even they would disagree. I have desperately needed the mask I have so expertly established for every second of the past three years.

Trust me my mask has saved my life numerous times, without my mask, I'd be far worse off than I am. No matter how hard that is to believe at times, It really can get worse, it can always get worse.

I could be dead but I'm not. I could be a mudblood, but I'm not. I could be poor, but I'm not.

And lastly, although he surely will eventually, Rosier hasn't taken me back yet. I know he's playing his game with me, I know he's just trying to toy with me and torture me, but if it means more time being out of his control, more time not being his trophy, and sex toy, I am so okay with my over-paranoid self.

So again my mask is crucial to my everyday life. Without it, without my ability to hide myself, and stealthily build walls between me and other people, I would've already been dead from beatings that were worse than they should have been because of "Disobedience ".

Plus the bullying I get from the "famous" marauders would be so much worse because they would know what they are doing, and how they affect me, they would know exactly what to keep doing.

And Rosier would know that this little game of his was working like fucking magic on me. And he would take me just like that.

My mask, as pathetic as it sounds, is my all I have. It is the one thing that gives me the Perfection my parents expect. And for that, I am SO grateful.

꧁~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~꧂

James Potters POV

I was honestly half out of it and just in my head as  I walked through the dark halls to the kitchen with Peter and Sirius. Remus didn't come with us because it was his time of the month tomorrow, and he was feeling weak. We'll just bring him back some food like usual.

Anyway, my mind was stuck on that pureblood, suprematist, Fawley. As much as it pains me to say I'm starting to wonder if we're being too hard on her. She's not showing that we're fazing her at all, she seems completely indifferent and confident in herself. And even if we were, that's our goal, isn't it?

And I mean not that I've been watching her, or I care or anything like that, it's just that I happened to notice that she seems to losing weight. And I mean like a lot. Like a lot, a lot. I have always tended to call her things like greedy, pig, and maybe, possibly, fat slut. ONCE. I only called her that one time, when I was rather drunk. I hate that teeny part of myself that seems to be trying to care that my words could be causing this. I shouldn't care.

Then, just as we were nearing the kitchen, Sirius stopped right in front of the very girl that was occupying my mind.

"Oí! What're you doing up and out in the halls this late daddy's girl? Sirius accusingly asked as he slowly took menacing steps towards Fawley.

Fawley however, just remained slumped against the wall smoking her cigarette, seemingly unfazed.

Then Sirius obviously angered by her blatant ignoring of him, kicked her in her side. He didn't kick her super hard, just hard enough for there to be pain, no injury though. But she's now clutching her stomach and retching.  What. The. FUCK. there is no way he kicked her hard enough for her to be retching right now. Did he? No, no there is no way, but she's retching and the only thing she's retching is stomach acid. No, I'm overthinking this, and she's just being dramatic.