❛❜I hang around Thestrals because, unlike humans,
they don't treat me like I'm damaged.❛❜
°∘❉∘°
- in which, Gryffindor's golden boy
refuses to let go of his summer love story
but Ravenclaw's lucky charm
refuses to let him back in
°∘❉∘°
[...
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⭒ 𓅓 ⭒
Verity could still remember the look in her mother's eyes as she died. Fear drowned in her blue irises, the realization of her last breath approaching terrifying. Faye Amara Hewitt didn't plan on dying so young. She didn't plan on leaving her children behind and breaking their innocent hearts. She didn't plan on bringing her husband's last bit of sanity with her as she went. It was never the plan, yet Verity saw it all happen. She saw her childhood crumble before her eyes.
After two years, the pain had yet to subside. Guilt kept a firm grip around her throat, squeezing it whenever Verity dared to think about this tragic night. She couldn't spend a night without nightmares plaguing her sight. There was simply no escape from the wrong Verity never meant to cause. She tried to move on, but her mother's last breaths would forever haunt the girl. Time, despite other people's sayings, solely worsened the wound. It ensured Verity couldn't forgive herself. It assured that the responsibility of that night was carried by her shoulders only.
For a while, Verity believed Hogwarts could cure her grief. She went back from summer break, hoping her friends and Quidditch would drift her thoughts away from that fatal night. Unfortunately, not even Harry and Belle, Verity's haven, were enough to fill the hole she felt when she breathed. They couldn't repair the damages done over time, and they could even less help her against the man she learned to fear.
The wind was cold as it hit the faded bruises on her skin. Verity's long-sleeved shirt did nothing to protect her against it, but she was too numb to notice it. The blue waves, which forced her to remember her mother, were calm. Underneath them, creatures swam to the bottom of the Black Lake, seeking refuge from the storm ahead. Verity should have been in the castle to avoid it, too, yet she didn't have the strength to move. She was barely able to drag herself to the lake. It seemed her force had diminished overnight.
Something had pushed her over the edge. Ever since her mother died, the girl had been walking on the line separating Life from Death, dangerously inching toward the latter. One push and Verity would fall. She hated how Blake McKinnon was the one who made her step over the line. She hated even more that it wasn't the first time.
As if her family problems hadn't been enough, Verity had to encounter Blake McKinnon when she was at her lowest. The boy who, at first, appeared so sweet and kind. He had Ravenclaw's tower wrapped around his finger, girls falling at his feet and was overall perfect. Verity wished she never fell under his spell, but back then, she needed someone so bad, and he was there, holding her as she cried. He used her vulnerability to get closer to her and make her hit rock bottom. What they had had merely ever been a lie under Blake's control. To this day, he still pulled the strings.
