musicmusicmusic.
that's all that ever mattered to you.
your hands were glued to your piano && you never looked up from that little notebook where you kept your songs {about that silly girl}.
did you ever stop to notice little Stella's look-at-me! attitude towards you?
darling, that girl loved you.
&& you let her s l i p r i g h t t h r o u g h y o u r f i n g e r t i p s . . .
-:-
she was always quiet.
you never paid her much attention.
she was just Lily-flower's godmother's daughter, wasn't she?
while you were writing your silly lovesongs, she was painting a pretty picture.
but, darling Louis, this story has a twist.
her paintbrush was a razor.
her canvas was her wrist.
-:-
Godric, she was thankful for those long-sleeved robes.
without them, her secrets would be etched into everyone's minds.
{like the wordscarved into her arms.}
fatuglyslutwhorearrogantstupidhideousunwanted.
You remember Lily-flower going on&on&on about how Stella would wear long-sleeves in summer, but you never really cared, did you?
Maybe you should have.
-:-
it was the Christmas of 2024, remember?
you were curled up on the sofa in the living room of Shell Cottage, your batteredguitar in your lap && your wornlittlesongwritingbook on the arm of the sofa.
one moment, you were completely alone.
&& the next?
Victoire was pacing the room, glistening tears s.t.r.e.a.m.i.n.g down her cheeks.
"Torie, what's going on?"
She can't even breathe. She's crying and she can't breathe and you know, you know, you know something bad's happened…
it's quite a few moments before you get the whole story out of your messofasister.
"Stella Scamander's killed herself, Lou. Went right and offed herself! Oh, Godric…"
-:-
it's three days later, and it's the funeral, and Merlin, you've got this weight on your chest, but you can't cry, because afterall, Weasley-Potter men don't cry, do they?
Lily-flower's sobbing into your shirt, and you can't do anything but pat her on the back and tell her everything'll be all right, can you?
"If anyone would like to say a few words, now would be the time."
the frail little wizard steps down from the podium and gets lost in the rather small crowd before people begin flooding towards it.
you barely even pay attention to the words that f l o w from their mouths.
It's all fakefakefake.
but, finally, you push past the thinning crowd to the podium, and snatch the microphone out of Uncle Neville's hand.
"I didn't know Stella Scamander that well. She was always a sort of foreign subject. Just Lily-flower's godmother's daughter. I didn't pay attention to her. I don't think any of us did. Merlin, maybe we should have."
Nobody speaks after that because, Godric, you hit the nail on the head, didn't you?
-:-
[a/n]: Kind of based off of personal experiences. I tried to kill myself. Didn't work. Whatevs, kids, let's just dance. (: But, anyways, this is in honor of a CmPS project, Project M.A.S.K., that was at IC this year. Look it up? Don't? WHATEVS. Anyways, anything you recognize, I don't own. Reviews are like Tom Felton covered in bubbles. –R.
