Cherry Lips // s. black

-FEBUARY-

"We should really protect you with a diadem, perhaps, or-"

"Yes Miss," Carmilla said quickly, and began shoving her things into her bag as quickly as she could to escape the teacher wailing over her shoulder about the fall from paradise that was coming for her. Or at least that's what the prophecy said.

According to Professor Hecate.

Who was also completely sure that the saviours of the world [why the world needed saving in the first place, Carmilla didn't know] would come about from an attic and also a duck teapot.

"We just want you to be aware of your doom," Hecate said kindly, pressing a hand to her chest, where teeth hung on chains. "That's all."

Carmilla didn't bother asking who 'we' was. She picked up her inkpot and the pack of tarot cards from her little table that was actually just a stool, returned the cards to their box by the door, and escaped.

The cards had been drawn in exaggerated reds, like blood, which had made them plain creepy, especially with all of the swords and crying women, but the ideas behind the art had actually been cool. She already knew how she would redraw 'The fool'. She'd get a drawing of herself.

Because she was a fool for thinking this whole fake dating thing was going to be a breeze.

So far she had had three different people coming up to her asking how Charlie managed to bag her [a lot of tears and snot], if she had a sexually transmitted disease [no], and why she wanted someone from Slytherin when they would just slit her throat in her sleep. She was given detention when she tried to answer that last one with her fist.

As if anyone could even slit her throat in the first place.

"Goodbye," her partner said, packing up her waffle container. Carmilla still hadn't asked for her name yet. They didn't say much. It was perfect. Waffle girl got to eat her waffles and Carmilla got to take a nap.

Carmilla smiled at her before she turned a different corner. "Seeya."

She pocketed her inkpot and walked into one of the spare classrooms, once she was sure no one was going to follow her. Then she hopped out of the only just open window, and flew with her thin black wings in spirals down to the quidditch pitch on the opposite end of the grounds.

The chimney on Hagrid's hut was steadily chugging out smoke that would make Carmilla's eyes water if she got too close, and she looped over the violent willow tree.

Wind whistled in her ears.

A bug hit her in the face, and she spun in a circle accidentally, trying to claw it off her as she plummeted to the ground. She steadied out eventually, and flew up behind the quidditch pitch stands. There was a team practising in the air already, but she couldn't see the colour of their robes until she walked around the side of the big wooden stands, grass crunching under foot, and found her spot on them.

Carmilla dumped her bag under her feet and pulled out her sketchbook, brushing sweet wrappers and pencil shavings off it.

She pretended her mind didn't go straight to the anxiety that was building over the stolen drawings Severus had taken, and instead pulled out her quill and inkpot once again, setting them out next to her.

It wasn't her fault he was a bully and Severus the snail sounded so funny.

James was still disappointed he hadn't got to see the sketch. She'd made it up to him by letting him borrow her new broom for a match he had against the Hufflepuffs in return for her using 'Harry'. She flipped to the back of the book and began a circle, mapping out a face.