ᴏᴍɴɪꜱᴄɪᴇɴᴛ ✵ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ✵

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈

☼ ꜰʀᴇʏᴀ ☼

»»-------≪ °❈° ≫-------««

The enchanted ceiling above shows the whirling dark clouds from outside, but adds only the sight; not the sound or feel of their deluge. Freya tries not to take it as an ill omen, there is already too much on her plate, and she isn't referring to the untouched breakfast sandwich in front of her.

Students fill the Great Hall, it reverberates with a symphony of clattering tableware, boisterous laughter, and animated conversations. A crowd surrounds her, yet Freya still feels utterly alone. She feels like a ghost, floating except she's chained to the ground and unable to move upwards.

Freya purposely woke up earlier than the others in order to escape without notice. Much to her chagrin, she sits alone. When Emmeline, Kingsley, and Benjy enter the room, they choose seats at the opposite end of the table. And oh, how that is the salt to her wounds.

A hollowness settles in her chest, an achingly familiar void that begs to be filled but remains stubbornly empty, amplifying the isolation and loneliness that defines her depression. Dorcas soon emerges through the doors, and even though she joins Marlene at the Gryffindor table, she still waves enthusiastically at Freya. A simple gesture that manages to lift her spirits, even if just marginally.

Freya props her chin upon her fist and moves her index finger in a circular motion, controlling the spoon in her cup to mix the tea. It's surely well blended by now, but she continues and stares absently at the swirling tan liquid.

"Good morning."

The dreamily calm voice of Pandora grasps her attention. The spoon falls stagnant, Freya blinks to clear her unsteady gaze. A small, amiable smile crosses Pandora's mauve coated lips as she sits across the table. She digs into a floral pouch, then extends her arm to show what seems to be little stringy and white roots in her palm. Before Freya can question it, Pandora dumps them into her tea.

"Dora," Freya says, slow and cautious, dropping her hand to fold both arms on the table in front of her. "Did you just roofie me with psilocybin mushrooms? I have enough mental breakdowns as is."

"Do I look like my brother?" Pandora covers her mouth, giggling softly. "Actually, don't answer that."

As she takes over the tea to blend the added ingredients, Freya watches in a guarded manner. "What is it?"

"Valerian root, it helps with anxiety. This is only a small amount, since drowsiness is a side-effect, it's for insomnia too," she explains, her tone is light yet a frown gradually dawns her face. "I plan to steal more when we go to Herbology. I heard you last night... your nightmares."

Affectionate warmth pools into Freya's stomach, and she is awestruck by the simple beauty in the goodness of Pandora's heart. "I don't deserve you."

"Nonsense," Pandora cooes. She drops just a trickle of honey into the mug, then urges it forward. "Now, drink. Then eat, I know you haven't been."

Freya brings the porcelain rim to the curve of her mouth, then takes a sip. An earthy flavour diluted by honey warms her taste buds. "Thank you, truly."

"Don't thank me. You're my best friend," Pandora assures, so genuine and sweet that Freya barely resists the urge to hug her.

However, the words do manage to form a lump in the back of Freya's throat at the reminder of Emmeline. Not that she doesn't consider Pandora to be her best friend, because she does, and Dorcas as well. They're all equivalent to sisters, more than really, but Emmeline is Freya's person. Her first friend, already so fiercely loyal when they met.