"You're absolutely infuriating." He breathed out, pressing her body against the bookshelf with his own. His dark eyes brewed with irritation, and another emotion she couldn't quite decipher.
"Trust me." She said, her chest heaving with every bre...
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December 20th, 1946
The twentieth of December arrived as quickly as everyone anticipated, of course, excluding Cerys Grahamm. She was not the least excited for what she'd have to endure during the two weeks she'd have to spend with Tom. He had made a horcrux out of her necklace during a party, Merlin knows what he'd do during the most cheerful time of the year. A sigh left her lips as she walked up the last step of the astronomy tower, students didn't have to leave until after breakfast— currently, it was seven thirty— and Cerys had thought to spend the remaining time in solitude. Alphard was still very much upset with her and her sudden change of plan, refusing to say anything but 'you said you'd stay' to her.
Fabula, on the other hand, was more than excited— a reason to which Alphard was also upset with her— as she could go spend the holidays at home, Alphard who tagged along in fears of being alone. Not to mention, she could also attend Rosier's party, who had been just as happy hearing the news.
"Of course, you're happy." Cerys recalled Alphard saying to Fabula as he bit into an apple at breakfast. "You can finally meet Prince Charming at his little party. And me? I'll be all alone because you'll be too busy with blue eyes and someone isn't staying. What a world. It's now only me against the world."
Cerys smiled softly as she stared down at the snow covered ground from atop of the tower. Alphard and his dramatics, she thought with a shake of her head.
"I'm guessing you're waiting for me." The soft voice of Helena Ravenclaw said from behind, the already chilly atmosphere dropping a few centigrades. As usual, half of her hair was tied, her dress hanging off of her shoulders and making Grahamm wonder if she had died in that exact state.
Cerys smiled at her, nodding as the ghost stood— well, floated— next to her by the balcony. "You're correct." She said. Cerys had grown increasingly close with Helena Ravenclaw ever since the dreadful night. It was mostly because she was very aware of Cerys' situation, more than she should've been, but, what happened, happened, and the witch now met up with her supposed ancestor at least twice a week.
"Are you excited to leave?" Asked Helena, referring to her journey to Little Hangleton. She didn't know about why Tom wanted to go to the small town, Cerys had only told her that it would do nothing to help her situation.
"Truthfully? No." Cerys replied. "I'm worried. I have no idea what's going to happen."
"Do you have something planned?"
"A few things." Cerys said, massaging the bridge of her nose. She had spent the past three days thinking over and over of what she could do, and only time would tell if she would succeed. A comfortable silence settled between the two, Cerys' eyes looking about the atmosphere, white filling her vision.
