𝑳𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒔 ~ 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 (𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘤)

~ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙴𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 ~

- 1996 -

White-yellow morning light poured through the tulle blinds that lined the dorm room, coating everything in a soft delicate yellow that seemed to make everything perfect and indestructible. Books piled onto a table, scattered with waxy parchment, quills, and ink-wells. A clear plastic hairbrush looked like it had been thrown carelessly onto the table. The comforter on the bed that lay with its headboard against the wall, was rustled and crumpled with obvious evidence of sloppy yet cozy dozing.

Her head rest against a pillow-like softness as she awoke. Her hair was mussed from her sleep, and she lifted her head. She was laying in a bed with... Hermione?

Oh, that's right, Beatrice thought, remembering the sleepover her and Hermione had the night before. They had stayed up late and drank copious amounts of butter beer, the drink constantly spilling from their cups as they had gotten more and more sugar-crazy.

Beatrice had gotten into another fight with Dean the night before, he kept insisting that him and Ginny Weasley were just friends, but we all knew that was a lie (1*). She couldn't stand to be around Dean, so she made him leave the Gryffindor common room. He was no doubt snogging Ginny in some hallway.

Bea lifted her head from the shirt on Hermione's chest where she laid, apparently the night had ended by cuddling and passing out. Beatrice's mouth was paper-dry and in desperate need of some water or any form of hydration. She rose from the bed, stealing a glance at Hermione and her easy beauty, and she tucked her hair behind her ear and went over to the girls bathrooms.

Her fingers grasped the handle and turned, causing water to come pouring out. She cupped her hands together, water overflowing through her fingers and over the curves of the side of her hands, she couldn't help but stare at the flowing path of the water; the way it curled and splashed and eventually left her hands.

It brought her back to her dream that night three years ago. She hadn't really thought about it. The dark nothingness that surrounded her after her father had spotted her. He could actually see me, she thought. She considered for a moment longer, then decided: I have to try to find him again, but how? She contemplated this for what had to have been about thirty minutes, just staring at the way the water flowed through her hands as if they were her own thoughts swimming through her mind. I'll try to visit him tonight, she declared to herself.

She splashed the water in her hands finally upon her face, and sat on the toilet just next to the sink to go to the bathroom and flush the excessive amounts of butter beer from her system.

She pulled her shirt over her head, unthinking, and looked at herself in the mirror. She had acne scars on her chest and upper back -- the product of overly active sweat glands and overly anxious fingers. She had small black hairs coating the length of her arm since she was never allowed to shave them. Her shoulders were too big to be frail, but not big enough to be broad, and her collarbones were obvious along her shoulders. She wasn't exactly very curvy, but her hips had cute little dips in them, just big enough for someone to put their hand on. Andromeda always said she'd grow into her shape, but Bea wasn't so sure, especially now when she didn't have too much growing left to do. Beatrice's boobs were the same size as her butt, cute, but leaning toward the small side on both ends. To top it off, her stomach wasn't flat, but stomachs aren't made to be non-existent. Even still, she had always hated her stomach and the way the bottom jutted out, even if it wasn't even all that noticeable, she noticed it enough. Her hair was just below her shoulders, her preferred length, and her face was tear-drop shaped, meaning her whole face looked like an oval, except for the dramatic point of her chin. The light of the morning really brought the yellow and green of her olive skin tone out, and she hated it.