What is there to say about a broken girl who's life collapsed before her at the tender age of 15? A lot, but she would never admit to that, because the wall that protected her grew taller and taller with each passing day.
"ANOTHER BRICK IN THE WALL"...
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chapter twenty-seven; cry me a river
word count 3262
Faint jazz, the smooth, instrumental melody rang around the house with sheer elegance. The famous annual Potter's Christmas Party. Wizards of every blood dressed themselves with the finest silks, the most beautiful pearls and their most perfect smiles, though everyone knew life wasn't perfect, far from it really.
Her hands ran down the wooden banister with grace. Hearing the chatter of the people, smelling the sweet aroma of the ravishing food and she felt sanguine. Perhaps, the days of arguments, regrets and ignoring Sirius Black's gaze were over. Yet, perhaps not.
She couldn't just so bluntly ignore the fact that her heart broke so easily. Like fragile glass shattering in millions of pieces. And now, she looked down on herself, she thought herself weak, vulnerable- how could she dare let herself trust him? How dare she let herself so close to a man who, with such ease, with no shaking, no quivering, no guilt within his eyes, say that he didn't trust her.
She grabbed a clear champagne glass that met her at the bottom of the stairs and sipped it down in one gulp, placing the glass on a close cabinet as joined the crowds. Her eyes lingered at each character that huddled around the room with red-faces and alcohol lingering through their blood. A bald man, his head scintillating with the light of the grand chandelier, studied the cloth that cloaked the lengthy table, stacked high with food of every sorts, fastidiously. He was a thin man, tall with sucked cheekbones and a dull look within his eyes, Sylvia pitied the woman standing besides him, having to listen to the tedious conversation that spluttered leisurely out his mouth. Her dress billowed at her feet, accentuating the length of her legs. It didn't take a moment's notice to see the woman's prominent tattoo on her neck, travelling up around her ear in beautiful patterns of blue.
Across the room, nearest the grand and beautiful piano that sat a squat girl and her father, a woman with a golden monocle fixed the buttons of her suit, shooting an elegant lady, hand in hand with her talkative husband, a wink. The woman blushed a violent red yet ignored the chuckling woman all the same, pitching a shunned point into the monotonous conversation that her husband and his stout, insipid friends were devoted so deeply to that, the smartly-dressed man didn't even notice his wife slip out his grip and shyly walk to the monocle-lady.
"That's Viv Vincent," Euphemia whispered to the girl as she handed another effervescent glass of liquor into her hands," She's quite the adventurous, I believe she dropped out of Hogwarts in her last year to run away with her lover- Mrs. Amira Macmillian," Mia's head tilted over to the elegant woman," Who was already married by the time. I suspect most of the Wizarding world know the two are lovers, except her husband- a boring old man he is."
Sylvia smiled. She loved to see love. She loved to hear the romance of others, for she only faintly remembered the love that her parents once shared. Her father was utterly devoted to her mother, he kissed her temple every time he left the room, he brought her flowers, he graced her with loving compliments every chance he could. She brought plain love, she danced to the Frank Sinatra that often echoed around the home, she clutched at his hand for comfort and, her eyes twinkled when she glanced at him, which was more often than not.
