note: tried dual pov (kind of) so yeah (:
AZALEA POTTER HAD A WAY OF FINDING HERSELF IN TROUBLE.
This one would have to take the cake, at least so far. In her fifteen years of life, she can't remember a time where she'd fucked up so bad.
That's how she found herself locked in her room, Vernon Dursley outside her window in the dead of the night, drilling grills onto her window while glaring daggers into her soul.
"You're never going back to that school. Ever!"
Yeah that much was obvious. It was well past 10 on the 31st of September, and the train for Hogwarts would leave in a little over 12 hours. She didn't have her books, her Hogwarts letter. . .
She huffed, staring up at the ceiling, hands resting on her stomach. It was probably midnight by now but there was no way of knowing — they'd taken her clock and alarm away.
This was the third time she'd tried to go to sleep, only to wake up just a few minutes later. Her stomach grumbled again, and curled up in a ball to try to make it better. Of course this was different from but there wasn't anything she could do. The granola bars she stored under her clothes were already sitting in her stomach, the sweet taste of the berries still lingering on her tongue, making her thirsty too.
She heard another rumble and resisted the urge to groan. She turned over to her left side and clutched her stomach, staring at the door.
Hooded eyelids begged for a flash of sleep, but her tummy wouldn't let go. It needed food, and it needed food now — but she was locked in the room. There was no way she could sneak out.
She muffled a weak scream in her pillow.
Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to sit up, get up from the bed, a wince leaving her lips when the wooden floor creaked beneath her feet.
She opened her closet, cautious with her movements because the lovely couple slept only a door down her room, and reached for the pair of scissors hiding beneath the pile of Dudley's old books — the Dursleys used most of her cupboards as space for storage, so most of her stuff was almost always towed away in her trunk.
Fragments of her reflection stared back from the glass of her room's window. She could see the flickering light of the topmost room of the house opposing hers, where a very kind old Mr. Brown lived with his instruments, his granddaughter and his cats. He was also the owner of the lovely store where she worked whenever she could.
She frowned but didn't linger on it. Tilting her head to the side, she took one last look at her long waves before grabbing a rubber-band and tying her hair into two separate sections — one forward, towards her forehead, and the other at the nape of her neck.
Alisa, Mr. Brown's granddaughter, worked in a hair-salon and had taught her enough of the ropes. She volunteered to work there too, whenever she wasn't needed at Brown's Notes.
She bit her lip and tightened her grip on the scissors, her muscles tensing and flexing as the clip clip clip of the scissors two arms clashing against one another filled the silence. She let go of the breath she didn't know she was holding once she was done with the section in the back, opening her hair and grinning at the shorter length. Then, she did the same with the forward section, and once she'd cleaned up, she ruffled her dark waves, satisfied with the result.
At least something good had come out of tonight.
. . .
AT LEAST SOMETHING GOOD HAD COME OUT OF TONIGHT.
YOU ARE READING
CRIMSON CURSES , the wizarding world
FanfictionHE WAS THE sun, she was the moon. He burned people, she gave light in the darkness. He was candescent, she was hidden. Beautifully tragic, two souls combined in a flurry of love, destruction, ashes, and magic. marked mature because it gets dark late...
