Let It Die }{ Lily

[Diomedea Rosier]

Diomedea did not know how she ended up wandering around the Third Floor. She glanced at the door leading to the Trophy Room; there was an award that belonged to her but which she had now forgotten its content. It was not important, it did not make her life any better and was not helping her adjust quickly – it was nothing more but a merest title and, even though her name was engraved into it, it seemed empty and lacking true meaning. What she then believed as significant and superior she now knew to be superficial and petty. When she wanted to cry, she could not, for she was not allowed – by her own self, which was a punishment worst than one inflicted by her enemies. But now the tears had dried up on the shrine of her own misery.

Never before had she paid so little attention to not being caught; she could easily creep around the castle at night and used this talent to get out of it and outdoors, to her great escape, the Black Lake. Now even that was a cursed place, with several bad memories she could not dispose of. Perhaps she did not care to be caught, perhaps she did not even care of finishing school with the grades she had set out to have at the beginning, when school started. Perhaps she just wished people would stop whispering about her and leave her alone; all she wanted to do is be alone and when she was not incarcerated within the cold comfort provided by the common room and especially the dormitory, she spent time in empty classrooms; either she simply allowed herself to sit down on the floor with her legs crossed and close her eyes, or try to catch up with her studies, her performance of which had significantly taken a downturn. She had been one of the best students throughout the years and now was disinterested even in opening the books. The library ceased to be one of her favourite places, for it also possessed bitter memories of the past she longed to forget. There were not many place Diomedea could find peace and solace, and if she found any, it was temporary and as superficial as her previous behaviour.

[Lily Evans]

It was nights like this one that made Lily detest patrolling. She usually liked it. It was kind of nice wandering around the empty halls of the large castle. It was peaceful and calm, and over the last three years she had really started to get to know the old building. Not as well as some, but better then most if she did say so herself. Most of her patrolling was done with her partner, but often they'd split up to cover more ground in less time. All the partners did. Remus and Lily had usually stayed together most of the time, but they'd split up on the more empty floors to cover more ground. Of course she hadn't patrolled with Remus in almost a year. Now she patrolled with Potter, and it was a much less pleasant experience. Especially now that they hated each other again. After that night he had stopped talking to her. Until she started yelling at him for the way he was treating Remus. They had started fighting again not long after that. Which is pretty much where they were now. Fighting... a lot. It was just like it was a year ago. Except now Remus wouldn't talk to her either.

So after a rather nasty fight, the two had split up. He would search the second floor and she the third. Then they'd join back up for the ground floor and dungeons. He never let her be alone in the dungeons, even when they were fighting. Remus hadn't either. Not that she was complaining about that of course. Alone in the dungeons at night just sounded like the worst idea she could possibly have being muggleborn. It didn't help matters that she had a bit of a mouth and a temper, and she was Gryffindor, and she was head girl over the Slytherin purebloods. That certainly pissed them off even more. Anyways, with Potter they had only found a few rule breakers. (Of course the fact they had been practically yelling at each other kind of gave them warning.) Now that she was alone she had found a couple of Gryffindor second years, probably out on a dare, and a sixth year Ravenclaw couple snogging in a corner. She had docked a few points from each and sent them to bed. All had gone without complaint so there was no need for any detentions. Even though she'd have to report them to their heads of house.

She was approaching the trophy room when she noticed a tall, blonde figure. There were multiple tall, blondes running around Hogwarts, but she knew who it was. Diomedea Rosier. The very sound of the name could make children run in fear. No, bad Lily. That was mean. She tried not to judge people so much. Even if they had been completely evil in the past. After all, she had heard the gossip. It was one of the talks of the school. Tristain Hayden, the funny, flirtatious, friendly, obnoxious Slytherin and Diomedea Rosier, Ice Princess, had broken up. Rumor had it he was cheating on her with Kayleigh Murphy, a girl in her own house that he was close to and always flirting with. Lily knew Kayleigh, and she knew that couldn't be true. Kayleigh was a sweet girl, and she'd never do that. However the fact that Hayden and Kayleigh had started dating almost immediately didn't help matters. None of that mattered of course. Lily had to send Rosier to bed and deduct house points, and Rosier probably wouldn't be happy about it. Diomedea and Lily had a few spats when Lily had caught her breaking rules in the past. Rosier hated her because she was muggleborn, and the fact she had been given such an important title didn't help. She was prepared for a fight now. She was just hoping wands wouldn't become involved. Hers was in her robe pocket and she could get it within seconds.

"Rosier," she called out to get the girl's attention. "It's after curfew. What are you doing out of bed?" she said. Her voice had an authoritative tone too it, and she didn't show any fear. If she did then there was no chance of avoiding a fight. She was prepared for a cheeky answer. She rested her hand over her pocket so she could grab it in a second if she needed to, but not making it obvious she was doing so.

[Diomedea Rosier]

She was caught by Lily Evans – that was predictable, and yet Diomedea did not have her wand with her. She did not care enough for herself to try and protect her against a known or unknown enemy, against any perilous situation or anything that would send her pronto to the Hospital Wing. She had given up from life some time now. There had been previous encounters between her and Evans to suggest the existence of unlimited tension and tautness, however at this point Diomedea would not object to anything the girl would say or do. What did House rivalries matter anymore, and getting the reward because of bluffing and throwing curses at one another?

“Evans,” she addressed the girl in turn, and when she was asked what she doing after curfew, she did not respond for seconds but pushed her body against the cold stone wall and crossed her arms lazily, looking at her through glinting eyes of ice cold and steel gray. She slightly shrugged to indicate indifference in terms of point deduction. “Chilling,” she said with redundant sarcasm, but the facial expression of mockery soon faded away, replaced by one of miserable defeat. She was used to staying up late at night and even that in itself was a bitter memory – everything she knew, had lived and experienced was now nothing more but a bitter memory.

[Lily Evans]

Rosier turned to look at her, but she didn't answer her question at first. She just leaned against the wall and stared at her. Lily stood tall (though she was shorter then Diomedea) and waited cautiously for an answer. She finally answered in a lazy, indifferent, cold sort of way. Her eyes narrowed a bit, but she refused to start the fight that she was sure Rosier was itching to happen. She would be the bigger person. "Well then I'm going to have to take points from Slytherin and report you to your head of house tomorrow," she said calmly with a similar indifferent tone, though not as cold. "Twenty points from Slytherin," she said. "Now you should go to bed," she told her.

Before she knew it though, the mocking, sarcastic look was gone, and it was replaced by one of... defeat. That was strange. She had never seen Rosier look weak for even a second. She was still being cautious, but her compassionate side was coming through. The reason that so many people liked her. Maybe what she had with Hayden was more serious then she thought, and maybe she was hurting more then Lily thought possible for a girl like her. "Is something wrong?" she asked. Her tone was cautious and caring at the same time.

[Diomedea Rosier]

“You do that,” Diomedea said as Evans stated she was going to deduct points from Slytherin and report her to Slughorn; it was not the fact Slughorn had a soft spot for her, what with her looks and abilities, but it was the significant fact whichever aspect had previously meant extensively to her now had been decreased to a level of sheer unimportance. Twenty points were taken, and Diomedea suddenly felt like the loser horse in a horse race, reprimanded for its bad work. “Happy now? You did your job, you may leave,” she coldly said, which in itself was a very strange statement, for she was the one for supporting Slytherin in whichever way she could, raising its points and rooting for both Cups. And now she was displaying downright unconcern which for her seemed unnatural.

She turned to look back at Evans when the girl asked her what was wrong. Where to even begin with? Her eyes were no longer icy but resigned, expression submission and a desire to get out of everything. “Don’t play games with me, Evans. Don’t feign compassion, I don’t need your pity above anything else. You know what’s wrong? You harassing my peaceful time. If you left – that is something I would appreciate. You’ve done your duties, you deducted points, you will report me, anything else is needless. You know you can’t move me from this spot, not in a million years, unless I want to, so let’s skip a brawl you know I’m going to win,” she easily dismissed her, determined not to express her feelings to the red-haired girl. She was practically a stranger, and though being Muggleborn no longer mattered to her, she felt as though what she needed at this moment was for her own self to be as estranged from her own feelings. Then it would hurt less.

[Lily Evans]

She didn't seem very phased that Lily was taking off house points. Sure, Rosier was one of the Slug Club so that didn't really matter. (Though not as favored as Lily, so she still could get Slughorn upset with Rosier if she wanted to.) However Rosier was very proud of her house. At least she used to be. She didn't seem like she'd care about much of anything riht now. Her eyes narrowed when Diomedea told her that she could leave now. "I don't think so," she said the irritation showing in her voice. She wasn't scared of Rosier. No matter what dark magic the rumors said she knew.

Her eyes narrowed even more when the Slytherin accused of her of faking compassion. She knew very well she ought to drop this, and tell her to go to bed or she'd get help. Even though she would absolutely hate to go get Potter to help her deal with this situation, so it was a bit of an empty threat. Something about the dead, resigned look in her eyes stopped her. As much of a temper she had, her caring side was far stronger. "This isn't pity Rosier," she said, her voice strong and unwavering. She wasn't going to back down, and she was going to try and help this girl. Whether she deserved it or not. "I've never feigned compassion for anyone in my life. I will not leave you to wander the halls for the rest of the night. It's not my job just to punish you. It doesn't mean you get to run free for the rest of the night." She paused. She had covered the responsibility part now. Her eyes softened. "However," she said her tone softer as well, "I don't think that's what is wrong. If you don't want to talk about it, fine. I'll have you know that I'd never tell a soul, and I can offer any advice I can. Or just listen. Whatever you need." She was very genuine. Yet, she managed not to sound completely naive either.

[[Yeahhh, so I think that's a weird post. I had muse though! Even if I rambled and was weird....]]

[Diomedea Rosier]

Diomedea had a hard time in her life to distinguish compassion from pity; she possessed a significant amount of fierce and harsh pride to explain her at times hostile and discourteous behaviour towards those who wished to show her genuine interest and kindness. Indeed, she did not believe it was kindness but carefully disguised endeavour at humiliation and harm, whether it be psychological or downright physical. This is why she did not trust anyone, and this period in particular she had closed herself against the world, limited her activities and constricted her soul to thoughts barely recognizable by a younger bemused self who longed for more extraversion and variety of choices. She felt and was so alone and lonely, that this sudden change in her life had caused her a high rise of temperature on a daily basis, which had progressed into fever, having lasted for a good week. She hated herself for reacting this way, despite the fact she was helpless in alternating these consequences of her own star-crossed actions. And then? Then she found the broken pieces on the floor, scratching her legs, and tried to pick them up, and be who she was, before she met him, before everything had started. But did she not want to know and be who Diomedea was?

Always in her life she wanted to be free, and yet now she felt bound by the shackles of her own painfully blatant emotions; there was nothing else worse but to trapped between your own current of guilt, regret and confusion, and a sense you have never been fulfilled, accepting you never might. It was a trial she had to go through, but she was not aware yet – her days were characterised by never-ceasing frustrations, secret anguish and unwanted turbulence, even though she tried her best to be not Diomedea, but Rosier, putting up the façade she always had, it was so easy, even though she lately felt heavy wearing it, and that something was poking at her chest, making her breathe with difficulty and choke. The blood she had shed was accumulating in her own liver and would soon eat her up. There were times when she had hallucinations and tossed around in her bed continuously, every night; she had been in a situation which, out of it, seemed inexistence and lack of survival. She could only be inside the circle, and dance its rhythm; whether doomed, cursed, or blessed, her vision was currently cloudy, her mind polluted with a flock of thoughts, and her will fading slowly as the sun during sunset. She looked at Evans with the same tired, resigned eyes. “Just go,” she whispered so quietly she was barely heard, almost pleading with her. Once again, she was running away; but whatever it was she was running away from, she wasn’t running fast enough.

[Lily Evans]

Despite how awful Diomedea Rosier was treating her, Lily couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Which was not the same thing as pity. Not when it came to Lily. She was still fiercely proud and prepared for if things came to worst. She watched her fighting with herself, and if it had been anyone who wouldn't have cursed her Lily would reached out and given her a hug. She really looked like she could use a hug. Lily was sure she wouldn't take it well though.

"I can't," she said gently. "It's my job to make sure students aren't wandering the corridors." That was true, and everyone knew Lily Evans was a stickler for the rules and stubborn as hell. "I'll let you get a head start down towards the dungeons if you want. As long as you stay out of trouble and don't let Potter or me catch you, I won't go looking. I still have to report you though." She paused, "I know how it feels to just want to be alone."

[Diomedea Rosier]

Diomedea hardly heard what Lily Evans told her, as something heavy had found its way unto her chest again and made it difficult to breathe. She walked slowly towards the staircase, but instead of walking down she simply sat down on it, hugging her legs and burying her head against her lap. “You don’t know how it feels,” she whispered softly, and had the urge to scream at someone – sadly, she felt it necessary to hold it back together. “You don’t know how it feels …” she repeated in the same tone, and took in deep breaths.

“You can’t understand me unless you have felt the same,” she said quietly. She did not realize she was actually speaking – she mostly thought, lost in her emotions, that she was thinking or that she was talking to herself. She had lost sense with reality. “Have you felt the same?” she asked her, and wet her dehydrated lips, raising her head to stare at the space above her. “It’s not about me, it’s not about him, it’s not about anyone,” she said. “I don’t know what it’s about. I don’t know what purpose this fulfils. I don’t know why it all happened, why it should come to this. People experience these circumstances, they narrate them, and we listen. But listening from experiencing bears all the difference in the world. They say everything that happens bears a meaning, any negative sequence will have a particular impact, but I don’t know – I can’t seem to find it. If the only consequence it will fulfill is pain and misery and emptiness, perhaps it should have never happened. Perhaps I should have been blissfully unaware of what I was missing. Then it would hurt less,” she finished, and buried her head into her legs once more.