'And he's the best fuck that ever walked. He's beautiful - rich, in money and everything else; he's a rockstar to boot, trapped in the body of a fighter. And how he fought; at a state of turmoil with himself - somewhere inside his soul that only she...
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♱
'My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.'
CW: this chapter discusses blood, gore, death, and other distressing things in detail.
Hera's uniform clung to her body in a dishevelled state, her pale shirt hanging just on the curve of her chest. A thin black line went down the back of her leg, stopping just below her short black skirt - thigh high socks were a fucking miracle.
Hanging loosely around her neck was a red and gold Gryffindor tie, showcasing the many undone buttons around her neck.
But she wasn't the only one; no one actually did up the top buttons of their shirt, did they?
It seemed the girl had forgotten how powerful the sleeping potions given to her were - she had been entirely knocked out for eight hours, and because she and her friends had gone to bed late last night, the sleeping potion had ensured she gotten the full eight hours of sleep. By the time Hera had woken up, she had missed breakfast and the first two lessons.
Admittedly, she wasn't as bothered as she ought to be - many would be irritated that they had overslept, or at least anticipating some kind of punishment. Hera's first lesson had been double potions, and she was far from eager to attend - maybe it was a blessing in disguise; any opportunity she could avoid seeing Professor Snape was one worth it.
She pushed through the copper doors into the great hall just as everyone had settled into their tables - she received many surprised looks due to her late appearance. At the Gryffindor table, her friends snickered at her, laughing and whistling as she strolled down the hall to them.
"Late night?" Fred asked mockingly.
"Your mum tells you to go to bed at nine o'clock... there is nothing you can say to come back from that, Freds. " Hera smirked.
