Bloom Again /James Potter/ ❁book 2❁

❁Chapter 16❁

[oh hey it's me who shouldn't be updating STILL updating]

Chapter 16

It was a bad day.

Bea woke unable to move and incapable of making a noise like her body had yet to wake up and the stress of her nightmare had pulled her forcefully from the sleep she wished to get away from. The voices of the people around her were too loud for her to cope and as she pulled on her dungarees very much needing cleaned of the many paint splattered and different strokes down the front of it, she wished that the muffled noise from the Hufflepuff common room would just stop.

She had ventured to her gallery soon after getting dressed, with no thought of getting food in her mind with a charms book tucked under her arm and a frown on her lips and when Beau approached her for the day with his daily teasing, she grumbled her incantation and flicked him against the wall.

He knew not to approach her after that.

She knew better than to lock herself in to her art room fully, her friends didn't have access because she didn't want them to see her paintings just yet and she knew that pissed Sirius off greatly considering Beau was allowed in and he was as clingy as a dog when it's owner came home with the scent of another dog on them.

The charms book in her hand gave her a great advantage and she charmed the room to only let in people with important news...such as the entire castle burning down - or something she needed to know in that moment so that she wasn't completely trapped.

The ladder she had brought in previously served her well. She had painted a few more flowers and when she was finally happy with them, the gold speck that connected her to the vine would travel through and make sure they closed up pre-bloom.

She had painted flowers of all kind, colours too. Roses of pinks and many yellows and dark reds and violets and daisies and lilies and the frown still stayed on her lips regardless of being in her element with the paint.

She had seen the funny side of her painting, the fact that even though she hardly wrote essays for herbology, and she only attended class to see what the curriculum was, she still painted flowers and plants and exotic trees more than she painted anything else.

She squeaked when she almost fell off of the wooden panel that was holding her up, she was so close to the ceiling that she was sure the drop to the ground would be more than deadly and she was surprised that she cared so much about the thought of it.

But it hit her then, a realisation that sped her heart and made her clutch on tighter to the wood to the side of her.

She didn't want to die.

For the longest time after her life being spared she wondered if it was the best thing, that the life she was living was so miserable that maybe dying was the best thing for her and she thought that every night, feeling guilty for her friends and for her family but she still could never rid the thought that maybe it would've been easier for her to just die.

But now, only months later she sat there slightly fearless and fully fearful, because she was terrified of the thought of dying and her life was slowly rebuilding that she didn't want to leave it behind.

She was taking it step by step. The first step was talking, and she talked almost as much as she used to regardless of the emotion she conveyed when she did it, she still talked. Then it was her friends, she got them back and they loved her more than they ever could because all they wanted was their Bea and they had her and it was enough.

But she smiled sometimes too, and she teased and joked regardless of how she felt, and it was a step she never thought she'd get to in a matter of months, but she was healing and growing, and she watched the pre-bloomed flowers twitch whenever a thought she particularly liked fill her head.