𝖈𝖆𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘

c a p r i c i o u s

That was certainly a very good way to describe Elizabeth Black. She was capricious and careless with most things.

She didn't care about school, or homework, where she lived, who she spent her time with.

Her life was a whirlwind of whimsical decisions and disasters, just the way she liked it. Having never grown up with a structured life, bouncing from foster parents to care homes, it was expected that she would live her life so unbothered, so arbitrarily.

She didn't care about many things, aside from her friends.

But one thing she did care about, so passionately and endlessly, perhaps too much, was him.

Oh, she cared about him so much that it hurt.

As she lay her gaze upon his form, the streaks of bright colour glittering in the firelight as his back was turned to her, she was sure she cared.

Far more than cared, but she would never admit that.

She was certain, Fred Weasley would be the death of her, and she was certain she wouldn't mind it either.