She was going to burn in a special place in hell for this – if she wasn't already there, of course.
Rolanda had maintained over the years a liking-anyone-complicates-everything mantra. Maybe it was stemmed from some childhood trauma, she wouldn't know, or maybe it was just the facts: liking someone makes everything more complicated.
But, of course, she has to upset the simple balance of Rolanda's life.
This girl who flies around the Quidditch pitch at dawn with an intensity Rolanda's only seen in herself. Eyes narrowed, almost challengingly, hair in dark waves that brush her shoulders. She catches the rounded Quaffle effortlessly, and despite the fact that this girl was young enough to be her daughter, Rolanda can't help but imagining what other appendages might be just as round.
Alicia was almost teasing her, leaning over her broom, flying – whatever the girl did. Driving her mad.
Upsetting the balance.
