She kneeled on her bed, frantically throwing her clothes into the bag. She paused to glance at a pair of ripped jeans, then threw them in also. Reaching around while balancing a pile of books in one hand, she grasped a pair of shoes. She dropped the shoes unceremoniously into her bag, and spread the books out. She slowed down just enough to select the few books she might want. Glancing at the books, she realized the only books she wanted were sad, or written with sick, twisted humor. She gave a sparse smile, and packed them at the bottom of the bag. She decided to toss in her diary, just in case. She rolled of the bed, and grabbed her walkman, her alarm clock, and her whole jewelry chest. Just to be on the safe side, she stepped into her small closet and pulled out two fancy dresses. One was black with red lace trim and a red lace and silk corset built in, and the other was a cute, floor-length pink dress with gold and white trim. She snapped the dresses in, folded, and threw in hair clips and other little knick-knacks. Packing this fast wasn't really hard for her, considering that she didn't have much to pack.
"One pair of shoes isn't going to be enough." She said, voice low.
Worriedly, she ran a hand through her black tresses, with their two pink streaks in front, and grabbed all her shoes. One pair of slippers, a pair of high-heels for each dress, low boots, high boots, and a pair of platform shoes. And of course, flip-flops. She was already wearing a pair of pink and black sneakers. She pulled on her black and grey Quicksilver sweatshirt, and her black jeans. She made certain that she had her lucky underwear on, (Red, lacy and low-cut), and then she quickly did up the clasps on the bag.
She heard footsteps just as she shoved the bag under the bed, and flopped back onto it, holding her two prize possessions, a beautifully intricate china ballerina, and a rag-doll that she had had for as long as she could remember. Thoughtfully, as the foot-steps neared the door, she stroked the long, red-yarn hair of her doll. The eyes were large black buttons, and the mouth was stitched into a smirk with fine thread. The outfit was a red, white and black rag-dress with black and white striped socks. Of course, the patent-leather Mary-Jane shoe's couldn't be forgotten.
"Vienna! What are you doing up here? You know that it is dinner time! AND you missed your daily prayers!" The woman shouted. She had a stern face, and was dressed in a traditional black and white nun's uniform. Her black shoes clicked loudly, and if one had to listen to them for too long they would most likely get a tic. Vienna pretended to wince.
"Oh, ma'am, I'm so sorry. May the Lord forgive me," She said smiling and standing up, "For my insolence. I'll go down to dinner right now."
"But," The nun interrupted, "As a punishment, you must miss the few moments left of dinner. Go to study hall right now, and change into some PROPER clothes for once, will you? You KNOW that it is visiting day." She snapped irritably, swatting Vienna with her cane.
"Ow!" Vienna yelled, rubbing her thigh where she had gotten hit. Hopefully it wouldn't bruise, or the nuns would have hell to pay.
She ran quickly down the hall, skidding into the bathroom, dodging the shouting nun yelling after her.
"Come out!" The Mother shouted through the door.
"I will once I'm cute!" She yelled back. "I'll be down for the visiting, don't worry."
"Fine!" The Mother yelled.
Vienna leaned against one of the many cold iron sinks, looking around. This was one of the best orphanages in town, yet she hated it so much that it almost made her sick. She quickly applied mascara and some charcoal eye-shadow, lightly dusted over the lids. She opened her eyes again, looking at her stony silver eyes in the cracked mirror. She ran a hand over her sweatshirt, feeling for her most precious possession.
The letter.
It welcomed her to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and it was her only hope in these days. She didn't want to be adopted by some family who wanted to dress her up in short pink dresses and Mary-Jane shoes and show her off.
So she called on an old favor.
She placed her hand on the old mirror, feeling the glass spread out thin and smooth under her long, delicate fingers. A pianist's fingers, many people had told her. She gave a little smile, her full crimson-painted lips spreading in a rare grin. She reflected on her parents.
She had always known that they were different, and she could vaguely remember them surrounded by shining lights, heads lolling unpleasantly as they were carted off to prison. This was her only memory of them. Some people, whom others called Aurors were the ones directing the whole thing. She had screamed and wailed, kicked, scratched and bit, but she was still carried off to this home.
Of course, she hadn't made it easy for the nuns, but she was still going to miss them a bit, she supposed.
Eh, who was she kidding? She wasn't going to miss them at all. They had made her life hell, as far and for as long as she could remember.
There had been one family whom she had remember, namely because of their hair. Lucius Malfoy had had the most spectacular hair, shimmering white-blond. When she was four, the year her parents were taken away, she had grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled it out. Instead of yelling or cursing, he had just laughed. She had later done the same to the highly stylized tresses of Narcissa Malfoy, whom had swung her around in a circle giggling merrily in her wonderful, feminine voice.
So, she wrote a letter, and sent it to them.
She covered it in stamps, just to be careful.
It had obviously gotten there, because Lucius had written her a short note saying he would be glad to take her to school with his son. He also had included a short response to the thirteen stamps she used, asking her why she didn't just use an owl.
An owl? Why use an owl when she could irritate him to now end by getting it delivered the Muggle way?
She grinned.
Family favors really got you places, she reflected.
She took her hand off the mirror, and flung the door to the bathroom open. She strutted into the hall, and grabbed her bag. She wrote a brief note.
Gone for milk.
Will be back in a year, Love Vienna.
