Delicate | James Potter

1.08

~

"Alice!"

The girl groaned loudly and pulled the blanket over her head. She had just had simultaneously the best and worst sleep she had ever had, which makes no sense really, but her head was buzzing and suddenly nothing was making sense. It was like she'd been put under a particularly strong confundus charm.

"Alice?"

"Go away." Her voice slurred as she turned her head directly into her pillow, completely blocking out the light that was attempting to sneak into her vision. It was in this movement, however, that the events of the previous night came flooding back to her in one huge wave of regret. Sure she had drank before, but never that much, never so much she couldn't remember how the evening ended. How had her evening ended?

That petrifying thought was all it took for her to sit straight up and snap her eyes open wide, though it was with immense relief she realized her surroundings were that of the Gryffindor common room. The fact she wasn't in her dorm was a little unnerving, but being here was ten times better than waking up in the Hospital Wing, or worse, some random nook of the castle.

"Alice? Are you okay?"

Her eyes latched onto the concerned face of Peter Pettigrew, who was watching her with a tilted head. It was then that she remembered her previous words. "I'm so sorry. I did not mean to tell you to go away. I was...out of it."

"Don't worry, I could tell." He seemed to relax when he saw she was fine. "I thought I should wake you before everyone goes for breakfast."

"Thank you Pete." She laughed a little, definitely grateful for her friend and his thoughtfulness,  and ran a hand through her golden hair, hair that was tangled and bushy and didn't take well to fingers trying to comb through it. "What- what time is it?"

"Eight. It's Sunday so everyone else usually sleeps in till nine, or longer." He took a seat opposite her. "Though you might want to go before they all start coming down. Frank Longbottom has already been and gone, he was asking if you were okay but he had to go do some Head boy thing."

"Oh God, do I really look as bad as I feel?" The headache she had hoped to avoid had suddenly hit her in one foul swing and now it hurt to think.

"Uh, no...you don't look bad." Peter fidgeted nervously, now avoiding her eyes. "Just a bit...rough. But in a nice way, you always look nice."

The girl turned her head to the side where a small mirror sat on the mantelpiece above the fire (which was burning fiercely even at the early hour of morning), and immediately gasped. Her hair was a birds nest, in fact she was almost surprised to not see the small creatures nested in it, and her face was even worse. Smudges of mascara, eyeliner and eyeshadow had created two large panda eyes; it might have looked as though she had been punched twice in identical places if not for the additional glitter. Alice was glad she had opted for lip-gloss rather than lipstick, as she dreaded to think how much worse it would have been with a pink stain on her chin.