Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Grimmauld Place wasabsolute hell. Basil was totally used to being cooped up with her satanic ( okay, maybe satanic was a bit of an extreme, but Briony Thomas would most definitely sell her soul to the devil for a diamond ring, argue with the wall ) stepmother and cold, distant dad who probably hadn't asked about her life since she was nine. She missed her room, she missed her mom, hell, she even missed Hogwarts, and there everyone hated her.
Basil Lavinge was beyond angry. Using the word angry would be the understatement of the millennia. Rage coursed through her veins like it was her blood; she couldn't live without it. It was all she knew anyways — if she wasn't angry, who was she really? Basil was always kind of a bitch anyways, though bitch isn't the word she'd use, more like hard to understand! Anyways, art isn't supposed to make sense, and Basil Lavinge should be hanging in the Louvre.
The Louvre, merlin, Basil would kill to be in Paris, eating fancy pastries and looking at art with her mom, but here she was, stuck in a musty, old house full of people who either hate her or could care less that she's there. Ginny may be her only friend, but she isn't Ginny's, and that made her feel ever so lonely. Tonks was pretty cool, though, and most of her time was spent drawing with her.
The rest of the house was overtaken by Weasleys and old people who had no interest in talking to her ( and if they did, it would be to psychoanalyze her of some bullshit like that. Just cause she's angry doesn't mean she needs fixing ). Her reputation didn't help either — you hex one kid in your first year and suddenly you're the biggest bitch to every walk the hallowed halls of Hogwarts ( it was most definitely the scorpio in her ).
She had hung up some of the art her and Tonks had made around the room she shared with Ginny, carefully making sure to keep her untamable laundry heap off their sides. It had only been a week, but turns out Basil was an expert at avoiding the rest of the household ( it wasn't really an achievement, though, it's not like they were looking for her ).
She laid down on her stomach, pillow over her head. She huffed, the smallest bit of light peaking through the otherwise sealed windows. The beam of light hit her class of water, a rainbow reflecting on her nightstand. There was a knock on the door, which made her groan. "Stay out," she mumbled, shutting her eyes tighter.
The door creaked open, revealing Gwen, clad solely in fuzzy pink clothes, carrying a tray, which had a steaming bowl of soup and a cup of water. "Hey, Baz," she smiled as the raven haired girl sat up, back against the wall. "I brought you lunch, it's 1." She nodded as Gwen placed the tray in front of her, climbing into the bed next to her.
"Why aren't you talking to anyone?" She rolled her eyes, slurping a spoonful of the piping hot soup ( chicken noodle — her favorite ). "Everyone hates me," she shrugged, half-joking, half-serious. Gwen frowned, her eyebrows furrowed. The scolding liquid burned her throat as she sucked it off her spoon, a warmth lingering after. "I'm sure they don't!" Basil just sighed, setting down her spoon. "It's fine, Gwen, I'm totally fine." She let out a little cough as the soup settled in her stomach.
The blonde haired girl sighed, pushing a strand of her hair out of her face. "If you even need to talk, I'm here, Baz. I know I'm two years older but — "
"I know," she nodded, cutting her off. Gwen slipped out of her room while she grabbed the brightly patterned pillow next to her, throwing it at the door to close it.
Everyone had someone is this shit hole, everyone except Basil Lavinge. Ginny somehow fit in everywhere, Hermione and Gwen had gotten incredibly close ( and very fast, too ), and the other Weasleys probably did too — she didn't leave her room enough to know what else goes on besides what she overhears.
The adults, however, were a different story. Her dad and Briony hadn't even talked to her at all to the point that she thought they left ( but they hadn't — probably too busy sucking face or bitching about money ), Lupin ( who's class she quite enjoyed two years ago — how things change ) constantly wanted to "get her out of her shell" like she was a fucking hermit crab, which of course she refused to do. Sirius Black and Mr. Weasley just avoided her entirely, and who could blame them? If she could avoid herself all day, she would too. Tonks and Mrs. Weasley were pretty cool, though, and that brought her comfort. But just a little.
Suddenly, Ginny waltzed into the room, throwing herself on her bed with a sigh. "We can't get into the meetings," she groaned, kicking off her shoes as she crawled under the covers. "I don't know why you would, all they talk about is war and death. It's so ... morbid," she said, shaking her head. "I want to hear about Harry," Ginny mumbled, a slight blush creeping up on her cheeks.
Basil rolled her eyes, grabbing a magazine that was on her nightstand, which had a picture of Miki Berenyi on the cover, her red hair and guitar sticking out as she flipped to the first page. Her mom sent magazines and a letter weekly, never missing a date. They were her floatation devices during the long, cold ( how funny was that ) summer weeks filled with nothing but lying in bed and listening to Alanis Morissette.
"Harry Potter this, Harry Potter that — you should just bloody talk to him!" She exasperated, her eyes still glued to the magazine. "When you're cold, loveless heart finally finds a boy to tolerate you, you'll understand," she teased, earning another eye roll. "Yeah, sure Ginny, and then maybe Briony will remove the stick from her butt."
Ginny frowned slightly, before turning to face Basil's bed. "Who'd they send in today?" A small smile grew on her face as she flipped the page of her magazine. "Gwen, she wasn't forceful, though. She gave up easily, too. Brought soup." She nodded, blowing a strand of her carrot orange hair out of her face. "I think you'd get along with Hermione," she quipped.
"Yeah, okay," she scoffed, placing her magazine gingerly back on her nightstand. "Never gonna happen, she hates me." She could hear Gwen and Hermione through the thin walls, talking eagerly about something — she didn't know what, and frankly, she didn't care. "You can't live life thinking everyone hates you."
"I don't think everyone hates me," she clarified, a small smile growing on the face of her best friend. "I know everyone hates me." Ginny sighed, one the Lavinge girl knew well: the sigh someone gave her when they face up. "You're a lost cause, Basil."
She knew those words well, too.
authors note: so this story will basically start when everyone goes to grimmauld place and through the summer before harry arrives and then so on so it won't be entirely based on the books in the beginning!
