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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Eleanor would be lying if she said that her ego hadn't been bruised. Not only had her face been plastered all around the school, but she had partnered with the Weasleys (more particularly, Fred) in order to change all the paintings back to normal. For that, she had to let her feelings of anger out. And who was the best person to go to?
Pomona Sprout.
"I hate Fred Weasley," she said, her face contorted into a grimace at just the name.
Professor Sprout shook her head and tutted, a smile on her face. "No, you don't, Eleanor. You really shouldn't say such things," she implored while pouring the girl a cup of tea.
"You're right," Eleanor began, "hate is too nice a word for him. I loath Fred Weasley."
"Oh, Eleanor, you really are terrible when it comes to your grudges," Sprout sighed and placed the tea in front of the girl. It was sat on top of the same flower patterned saucer as always. "There's no point in crying over spilt milk, dear. What's done is done, learn to forgive. It's not good for the mind to harbour such pessimistic thoughts."
"He turned every painting in the bloody castle into my spitting image, Ponnie!" Eleanor protested, cheeks going red with anger at just the thought. "My mind is going to be perfectly pessimistic for a while."
"They've all been reversed back to their original state and Professor McGonagall has given Mr Weasley a detention for tomorrow night," she stated, sincere smile and all. "What more do you want?"
"I want revenge," Eleanor said before casually taking a sip of her tea. She recognised it as chamomile. Her mother would drink this stuff every night before bed because 'it helped ease her stress.' It must work, because she had never seen her mother stress a single day of her life.
"You've been spending too much time with Laurence. I've no doubt Cedric has been secretly egging on your anger as well— he always acts innocent, but he's a menace in disguise." Two knocks sounded on her office door. "Come in!" she called out.
Professor Lupin entered the room with dark bags under his eyes and his shoulders slumped. The scar that ran across his face stood out brilliantly against his unusually pale skin. Never in her life had Eleanor seen someone so tired, and she hadn't had a good nights rest for as long as she could remember.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you had company," Remus quickly apologised as he spotted Eleanor in the seat across from the woman. He offered them both a warm smile.
