Smuggleborn - George Weasley

"I will literally fill your sinuses with urine"

Children have a peculiar way of looking at the world, their eyes glistening with hope and untouched innocence. Children lack guilt, the dark hands of corruption hadn't broken their purity yet. They run around, chasing their wild and unrealistic dreams with a healthy dose of hope blooming in their cheeks, giving them the aura of innocence.

Teachers watch this innocence break as they discover that pinky promises can in fact be broken.

Every year this hope that every child is born with dwindles away, at the age of seven they proudly state they want to be royalty, parading around in a crown and ordering classmates around whilst giggles filled the dull classroom. Then the child hits the age of thirteen, the pressure builds and builds and builds until a real answer is needed. A lawyer, a doctor, or even a teacher.

It was all too much to deal with at once. The world that existed around these children was a cruel one. It was a dull void of pain and disappointment.

At the age of eleven, Dylan Blossom had this innocence ripped away from her.

Once upon a time, a month after her Hogwarts letter had arrived, Dylan had sat in her cardboard box of a bedroom, pale pink headphones blasting in her ears to drown out the shrills of her father's woman of the night.

They had been going at it for exactly thirty-seven minutes. Dylan had kept count.

It had been exactly thirty-two days since her mother had walked (or more accurately ran) away from the small family of three, claiming Dylan was a 'monstrosity of nature'.

Dylan still had hope, a minuscule shred of hope that if her mum came back then it would all be normal again, her dad would stop bringing these weird women back to his bedroom every night and the family could go on their weekly trip to the art museum nearby.

The art museum trips abruptly stopped, even when she had repeatedly begged her father to take her on a father-daughter day out before her impending departure to the mysterious and magical school of Hogwarts. The begging was always met with a loud huff and a knock on the front door, 'daddy's bird is here' her father would say, dismissing his own flesh and blood without a trace of guilt or compassion.

That's when the thin walls of their house were really put to the test, but alas, they were not victorious against the shrieks of the woman or the noises of the bed hitting the wall Dylan shared with her father.

Twenty-six-year-old Dylan Blossom could vividly remember how the noises turned her stomach upside down and the feeling of her tears trailing down her slightly malnourished cheeks even over fifteen years later. She remembered clutching her Hogwarts letter tightly to her chest, the last shred of her hope weighing so heavily on just a fragile, crumpled piece of paper.

Hogwarts was to be her saviour, child her was so sure of it.

Oh, but she was so naïve, and so very wrong, Hogwarts was not her saving grace, not at all, Hogwarts was harrowing, Hogwarts filled her with horror and unrelenting anger.

"Oi!" The irritating, elderly wizard shouted with a mouthful of rotten teeth. He looked like the typical patron of the Hog's Head, untamed and greying hair shedding all over the worktop of the bar, dull clothes hanging haggardly from his drunken figure. "Fire whiskey, two of 'em, princess." He winked at her.

She inwardly gagged. "Of course, It'll be just a few minutes."

The man narrowed his eyes, leaning closer to the woman "Why, princess? It's two drinks, just get them done, and quickly."

Dylan couldn't hold back a little scoff, purposely turning back to the half-made drinks to hide her expression from his beady eyes. 

"Who you looking at like that, princess?"

Her fist tightened on the glasses.

"Come on, you stuck up blonde bitch."

"Listen," Dylan gave him a sadistic smile as she turned around to address the man, "I've been working for nine hours, I'm tired and have no patience left. There's multiple people waiting for drinks, people who ordered before you did, you're at the back of the queue and will have to wait."

"You're too young to be tired."

"And you're too old to be alive."

Maybe insulting a customer wasn't the most effective way to handle the situation, but it's not like she cared all that much. All that mattered was that it got the job done, the patron, who absolutely stunk (Dylan was sure all her precious nose hairs had been burnt off just by the fumes) had been removed from the pub for his rampage after her comment.

He had been banned for life. A success for Dylan Blossom. 

Until she had also been fired and banned for life just minutes after.

"Fucking twat." She grumbled, kicking a particularly large rock angrily, "Fucking stupid rock." The walk to her small apartment was never a fun one, especially in her six-inch pink heels, but beauty was pain, and in Dylan's very arrogant opinion, she was fucking perfection.

The only thing that mattered was how pretty she looked and how presentable she dressed. Everything and everyone else could go fuck themselves.

Everything about her appearance had to perfect. Her hair was always styled. Her outfit always stylish. Her nails always pretty and matching. Dylan Blossom couldn't control what happened to her, but she most certainly could control how she looked.

If she were to drop dead tomorrow, at least she would die in a cute outfit.

Her failed job as a bartender had been added to the list of jobs Dylan had failed at, along with being a cashier, baker, cleaner, candle maker (Dylan had quit simply because it made her smell like a bar of soap), ice cream scooper, waitress and a barista.

Dylan Blossom had a reputation among the job market of the wizarding world. She was 'unreliable' (absolutely true!), 'rude' (being rude was necessary!), 'always late' (perfection took time!), 'doesn't clean up after herself' (she was being paid to clean up after others, not herself!) and as her most recent boss had announced before firing her 'a psychopath'.

Dylan Blossom was NOT a psychopath, she just took pleasure in tormenting the people she didn't like (which was everyone in existence).

"Don't you look happy."

A ginger man walking past sarcastically called to her, obviously past tipsy. The man by his side, on the other hand, was completely wasted, half being dragged and half limping to their destination.

Dylan gave the man a disapproving look, "and you're ginger, we all have our issues, don't we?"

Despite her remark, the ginger grinned even wider. " Careful there, I'd say you were hitting on me with that flirtatious comment."

Dylan made a repulsed face, pulling her white coat tighter around her frame. "I'd rather use a chainsaw as a dildo."

The man blinked.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I've just been fired and my patience level for those less intelligent then me has been fully used up today so I'm going to head home, or I will literally fill your sinuses with urine."

The man blinked again.

Dylan simply carried on with her walk home, slowing slightly when she heard the man call "Who's urine would it be?"

What an idiot.