I do not claim ownership to any of J.K. Rowling's characters, and I am not making any sort of profit from this. It's simply for a larf. Please R&R. Thanx. ~ZiMsta

INDECORUS ARTWORK

Genevieve stayed in the hospital wing for a good majority of the next day, because Madame Pompfry kept running magical tests to make sure that there were no lingering side effects. As much as Genevieve hated being in hospital, she was quite enjoying the time to herself. She sat up in bed happily drawing, her multitude of sketches spread out on her blanketed legs. She drew lots of things. Olivia, brilliant Quidditch moves, and at least three of her father. His father's face was so clearly placed in her mind that she could have easily drawn him in her sleep. But she was soon finding it rather depressing.

She suddenly got a fantastic idea that was sure to pick up her spirits and inspire a few giggles. She grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and began sketching the look on Snape's Holo-face when it had stuck its tongue out at her. It was ruddy brilliant when she was finished, causing stitches in her side from all the laughter. This, of course, got Madame Pompfry's attention. Genevieve quickly hid the drawing under her pillow just as Madame came into view.

"Well, you're clearly feeling better." She said, glancing down at Genevieve's sketches. "I'd say you were ready to go, luv. Try not to hurt yourself too much. Don't want to spend your last year at Hogwarts in here now, do you?" She asked with a teasing smile. "No, Madame." Genevieve said as she collected all her drawings. "Good. Off you go, then." Madame then disappeared. Genevieve got out of bed and quickly dressed in her regular uniform, carrying her Quidditch robes and drawings out of the hospital wing. She was going along just fine as well, not a soul to be seen until

"Miss Hemlock?" Snape's steely voice shot up her spine, causing her papers to fly everywhere. Genevieve spun around and looked on in horror as her sketch of Snape floated down from the air, skidding to a stop at the foot of his robes. She stood frozen in her spot, not even thinking to recover it before he saw what it was. She was too late anyway, watching Snape as he bent down, picking up the parchment in his long, slender fingers.

"Well, well, well. Quite the artist, aren't we Miss Hemlock? I am assuming this is your way of thanking me for saving the number of bones that surely would have broken had I let you hit the ground yesterday? How very thoughtful of you." Snape said, trying to act indifferent, but judging by the curling and twitching of his upper lip, he was clearly not amused.

"SirNo, It's not that at all. The Holo card" Genevieve desperately tried to explain, but Snape wouldn't have it. "Silence! I do not want to hear your petty excuses. 20 points from Gryffindor for your indecorous piece of artwork. Perhaps that will teach you not to go looking for personal amusement at the expense of others. Nowback to why I stopped you in the first place." Snape said, folding the picture and tucking it inside his robes. Genevieve collected her drawings from the floor, hiding her mute, cursing lips from Snape's view, and then stood to face him.

"Headmaster Dumbledore has informed me that you are aware of your mothersshall we sayshift in loyalties. In light of that, I am warning you to keep your unremitting, adolescent trap shut about it! We cannot afford to lose the upper hand on this, do you understand?" He hissed at her. His eyes were narrowed, and he was suddenly looking very crazed, his face only inches from hers. Genevieve felt like saying, All right you stupid, greasy haired, cynical, ill tempered, bad breathed freak of a git! No need to get huffy!' But she just closed her lips and nodded. Snape seemed satisfied with that.

"Very well. Move along, Miss Hemlock, and do not let me catch you sporting any more of yourworks of art." He scowled wickedly at her, then turned around and walked off in the opposite direction. Genevieve made a nasty hand gesture in his direction, but snapped it away when he suddenly turned back towards her. "By the wayyou're welcome." He said, his mouth sneering as he turned and continued away. Genevieve didn't say anything. But she seriously wondered about that man.

*****

My Dearest Dylan~

I hope this letter finds you well, and your college classes are proving to be informative. I wish I could write this letter with words telling you that things were going well for me, but that would be impossible. I'm sure you have heard about my father. It is something that I still cannot seem to believe. And as usual, Snape has been on my case, his criticisms relentless. But he saved my skin at the Quidditch match on Saturday, so I am indebted to him (unfortunately). Not only that, but I have also become aware of facts that are more than slightly disturbing. As much as I would like to, I am afraid that I cannot tell you or anyone else what those facts are. It is something that weighs heavily on my mind. This is not how I intended on spending my final year at Hogwarts, but as my father always said, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." Too bad I don't particularly care for lemonade, but that is beside the point (Maybe I should switch it to orangesJ ). My love, I shall not burden you further with my problems this night. I miss you, and I hope to hear from you soon.

Yours Always~

Genevieve

Genevieve waited for the lavender ink to dry, then folded the letter, sealing it with her silver sealing wax and star shaped stamp. She sat in front of her vanity mirror, picking up her hairbrush and running it through her long auburn hair. She paused as she looked into her reflection's eyes. She had changed so much over the past 6 years, even more so in the past week. It was as if her fathers' passing had taken a piece of her childlike innocence with him. The carefree happiness she had felt with her father was something she would never experience again. And that had left a very empty feeling in her chest. He father had meant the world to her, and as she looked into her own eyes, she realized that someone had taken him away from her. This brought on an incredible sense of anger and vengeance.

"I'm going to find out who did this." She told her reflection, her eyes filled with determination and great sadness. "I swear to you father, I will find them." He voice cracked and she buried her face in her palms, sobs emerging from her mouth, tears flowing from her eyes. She wasn't sure how she was going to find her fathers' murderer, but that didn't matter to her now. She knew she would find a way.

She looked back into the mirror, whipping the tears from her face. Her blue gray eyes now were a striking ice blue, something that always happened when she cried. She took in her entire reflection once more. Her childhood had gone with her father, and all that was left was a mature young woman. She had to move on, regardless, and only with her fathers' memory. It would not be easy, but there was no other option. She had to live her life, and knew that some aspects of it would be in her fathers' name, whether the deed be good, or bad.

*****

The letter came a week later, and it was almost more than Genevieve could handle.

Genevieve~

I do not feel that this is the best time to do this, with everything going on in your life right now, but it cannot go on any longer. You know that I have always cared for you, and respected you for who you are. So please do not think that I am doing this because you are a witch. Things are just not working out between us. Not only do we live so far from one another, but also I just don't feel the same way for you anymore. I do not want to lose your friendship, but I am afraid I cannot see us taking it any farther than that. I'm sorry, Genevieve. My condolences for your father.

D.

Their 2-year relationship was over.

Genevieve had met Dylan in Oxfordshire 5 years ago. He was a muggle who lived only a few houses down from her. They became close friends right away, and he was the only muggle she had ever revealed her secret to. Almost forced to, actually, when he kept asking why she didn't attend their local school. Their relationship soon blossomed when they realized that they both wanted something more. It had been one of the most solid bonds Genevieve had ever had with another person. Reading that letter from him was another, of the many, knifes to her heart.

"I always thought he was a little off, anyway." Ezzie said, looking over her stack of books on Transfiguration. Genevieve and Ezzie had spent a good majority of the afternoon in the library to work on their Transfiguration essays. Mostly, Genevieve just wanted to keep her mind on anything but the present matters. "I don't really want to talk about it, Ez." She said, her quill moving sluggishly across her parchment. "Well, I'm just saying, don't get yourself down about it. He's not worth it, and you're probably better off without him." Ezzie continued on. Genevieve slammed her hands down on the table with anger, the sound of it echoing through the quiet library.

"I SAID I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!" She shouted, her body trembling with rage. Ezzie seemed taken completely off guard, and looked to be hurt by Genevieve's tone. Hurt soon turned to anger as she slammed her book shut, collecting her things as she stood. "You don't have to be such a bitch! I'm sorry that your father died and everything, but you don't have to take it out on everyone else!" She yelled, and then spun on her heels, leaving the library.

At first, Ezzie's comment didn't effect Genevieve. But then she felt that Ezzie had no right to speak of her father. Maybe Genevieve was over reacting, but she had been through a rough couple of weeks, and had pretty much been pushed to her limit. She hadn't been very tolerant of people, and mostly just wanted to be left alone. But at the same time, she was finding herself more and more alone. Not by choice, and not the way she had wanted it to be. She shook her head and slowly returned to her essay. Alone.