You can't hold me
I'm too slippery
I do no sleepin'
I get lonely
You can touch me
If you want to
I got poison
I just might bite you
Cordelia Prince blankly stared at the bottle green tile wall in front of her. She'd long lost track of time. How long has it been? Days? Hours? She didn't know. For the first time in a very very long time, her mind felt blank; she vaguely wondered if she was in shock or maybe the Ministry had sedated her.
Her eyes traced along the uniform tiles. She supposed that at this point any sensible person should be pacing back and forth, worrying that they were staring down the barrel of a life sentence at Azkaban. Maybe she was, but she just couldn't find it in her to care what happened to her anymore.
After everything she had done…
After everything she had risked…
In the end, she was, to them, what they believed her to be.
A Slytherin. Of course she'd turned out bad. As they'd said since she was a young girl, there wasn't a witch or wizard in Slytherin who hadn't gone bad.