pretty words are painted lies {sister

[astoria greengrass]

lord help the sister who comes between me and my man

Her room was quiet and Astoria didn't mind. She had a mild headache forming and the noise of her roommates would only irritate her and cause her head to throb worse. The girls were lovely when it came to certain things but more or less Astoria needed a standard level of peace when she felt bad, and she was definitely not feeling good. It was lunchtime on a Friday. Between the double potions that they had coming up and the looming essay due in History of Magic, she didn't know how she was going to be able to handle a headache today. She knew she could so eloquently get out of both with a note from Madame Pomfrey, but she would have to find her way out to the hospital wing in order to get it, and she'd have to stay there too... ugh. And put up with that insufferable woman, who would make her lie in one of those stuffy beds and drink her vile potions. It might almost be worth it to just go with the headache, no matter the severity.

With that thought her brain sent out a bright pulse and she closed her eyes in the mild light of the room. She was lying on her side, on her bed, the blankets under her and the bed curtains still tied up. The curtains to the windows were drawn, however, though the wicked sun still peeped through the littlest slits, and there wasn't anything Astoria could do to make the blinding jewels go away. Her wand was on her bedside table and she reached out for it, her fingers curled around it and brought it close to her. Her mind wandered to turning the curtains into stone, but another shock of pain behind her eyes just made her curl her knees curl toward her chest and she lie really still, trying not to think of anything. Of course, she had nothing else to do, so naturally, her mind wandered over anything and everything.

She thought of the classes she had left in the day, the homework she needed to do, the lesson with McGonagall later on, and the meetings with Camden played over in her mind. She hated to say that she missed him but she did, for as awful as their last meeting had been. He was still upset about her Animagus form, and he couldn't accept that she was trying her best to change it. He was livid enough that he had to be posted at the school, and that he wasn't off killing people, he hated having to keep tabs on her as well. She couldn't really blame him, she knew that she was giving him a lot of trouble when he didn't need it, but, at the same time, she knew that he had no real reason to concern himself with her. She was just another student, with a pretty common set of problems, and the only reason she bothered him was because, and she was sure, that she meant something to him.

Her head throbbed and she groaned. She sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed and wandered slightly blindly to her trunk. There was a Pepper-Up potion somewhere in there, and she knew that while it wouldn't cure the root of her headache, it would make her mood bearable to go to class. The lid flipped open with a flick of her wrist and she got on her knees, her eyes still mostly closed, and she put her hand in there, rummaging around by memory and feel. There were her reading books, extra quills, and now the small box of viles that held the different potions that she kept for occasions such as this. Her headaches had started a few weeks ago and had progressively gotten worse. She'd done a lot of reading and the closest thing to describe what she was feeling were migraines, which was the Muggle term for it, but the symptoms fit. She hated light, food, smells, sounds... practically everything while her brain felt like it was melting in her brain. She hated feeling the way she did when a headache came on her. It was all she could do to drink the potion and lie in bed for a while until the pain went away.

Astoria drank the bigger bottle and crawled back to bed, and lie there, being absolutely still and ignoring the sun still blaring in her eyes. She could feel the potion starting to work, and she let it happen as it would. She knew that there wouldn't be relief for at least a few more minutes, so she closed her eyes again and let herself drift away to the new kiss of cold against her cheek. She let the bubbling in her take away the thoughts and she ignored the buzzing in her skull... she would be ok, she would survive this. She always did.

[daphne greengrass]

all that I feel is the realness I'm faking
taking my time, but its time that I'm wasting

Friday. On of the busiest of all school days. While no one really wished to do work, and no one really did any assigned work till Sunday, they always seemed to want to push through everything so they could do nothing at all until Monday started up again. Empty blue eyes roamed the Great Hall searching for one particular blonde head. Her brow knitted together in confusion when she found one person the Hall didn't occupy. Her sister. The girl rolled her eyes and turned on her heel and exited. This was rare; Daphne looking for her sister. But, things changed within these last few weeks. Her blue eyes blinked twice, clearing any sign of upset. However, her expression still remained the same. If one were to look at the girl, they would instantly know something wasn't right. Even if you didn't normally know her, didn't speak to her.

She wasn't snapping at the small children to idly cross her path. Nor was she fighting with the people from other houses shooting her odd looks. She didn't care. The blue eyed girl went down to the dungeons, walking calmly and gracefully. But her stride still held discontentment and uncertainty. Reaching her destination, she mumbled the password and walked into the common room. Not even bothering to let her eyes roam to see if her sister was there, she went to the dorms. Daphne knew her sister. Whether anyone would accept that or not, they both knew each other. Knew of habits, knew of rituals, knew of acts. Why? Because they lived together. It was simple to pick up on certain things.

She silently pushed the door to Story's dorm open and her eyes immediately hit the blonde girl in bed. "Sister, are you feeling ill?" she asked, her voice quiet, both blank and showing a slight lacing of worry at the same time. Ever so quietly, the seventeen year old crossed the room over to her sister's bedside. A pale hand held lightly onto the bed post as she looked down at the younger girl. So they didn't get along. So, Story wasn't one of Daphne's favorite people. Story was the only family Daphne had. The only person she would consider family. Mother wasn't, that was blatantly clear. She swallowed at the thought starting to arise in her mind. Thoughts of father, she lightly shook her head and blinked. Three times in quick recession. She had to clear the tears. One rule; Never let your feelings show. For even if it was Story. Even if things had been done inside the manor. Her sister didn't need to know what Daphne was thinking... Right?