She looked at herself in the mirror.

Her hair was long. Since when did that happen? That hadn't been a conscious decision on her part. It usually scarcely went below her shoulders, now it was easily scraping at her mid-back. It wasn't necessarily a bad look - she'd often flirted with the idea of letting it grow out, in fact, but it had snuck up on her how long it had in fact gotten.

She'd looked worse. Weight had been escaping her at an alarming weight even before the attack, but now she looked to have reclaimed some of that. Through laziness over anything else, definitely.

Shame she was about to completely change all of that, though.

She'd kept herself locked away for so long that as soon as she'd broken the seal, it all came through. Being in that room for any waking moment sickened her. Now there was a choice involved, the illusion had shattered. From the second she woke up and was again met with that unfamiliar ceiling, she knew the plan.

Lifting the top off the wooden crate, she picked out another vial.

"Sup, Abbott."

It was true, the more time she spent in the open, the more she was welcoming exposure. She was acting irresponsibly but she rationalised it with the simple fact that she did not trust herself alone in that room anymore. She was damned if she did, damned if she didn't. So with that logic in mind… she might as well settle for the most fun of two evils. And "fun" was a luxury she'd not considered on the table for a while.

The barmaid lit up at the sight of her. She thought that was odd. Either this stranger was genuinely that happy to see her, or she was just very good at being a barmaid. The again, she supposed she was thankful no lingered awkwardness from their last encounter remained. It was more likely the latter of the two options, she knew, but it still served her heart a little good to see.

"Carly! No - Cara!" she smacked herself on the forehead. "Right! Of course! Merlin's Beard, it'll set in soon enough!"

Her face broke into a rare smile. Those were muscles she hadn't used in a while.

"How'd you sleep?"

She slowed on her way into the barstool, having to think suddenly.

"Awfully. If you're this close to the train station, you should have sound proofing charms on the rooms."

She tutted.

"Well, I do! But they only last so long, see, and it's such a guess when they're goin' to wear off! Half the time, I don't even know they've worn off because the guests just end up castin' them themselves without alertin' me!"

The thought had occurred to her and had only succeeded in making her more upset.

If she was capable of performing magic anymore, she probably would have.

"- outside from that, how're you doin', deary? Notice you're comin' down a lot more now, work going good, is it?"

"Time consuming, but it's getting done. A slow process… But you have to trust the process."

She was trying to convince herself of that answer as much as she were Mrs Abbott.

The barlady smiled.

"Aww, well that's good to hear! The usual, will it be?"

That was a good question. She wasn't having another pint. They tasted like piss and she couldn't afford it. But removing that, she didn't didn't know what else to order. Wine was her usual go-to, but she still had half a bottle of that upstairs - and even if she didn't, if she thought the beer was expensive here, she'd have a heart attack if she looked at the wine menu…

"... you serve food?"

Mrs Abbott smiled, again, like the question had somehow made her day.

"We do indeed! I'll get you the menu, shall I?"

She gestured vaguely in agreement and returned a moment later with an unfortunately small menu. She scanned the card and wasn't impressed with what she saw. Deciding to play it safe, she chose a default that would be difficult to mess up.

"... Eggs, sausage, chips and beans."

A floating quill scratched onto a notepad beside the barlady.

"Gooood choice. Always a favourite. And what drink will that be?"

Internally, she gave a sigh of annoyance.

If it came with a drink, she'd be wasting her money paying for it, but not having one. Not to mention she usually liked being able to wash her food down as she ate… But then she was right back where she started. Although, who said she had to have alcohol?

"Tea."

"Uh-huh. Sugar?"

She shook her head.

"Thaaaat makes sense."

She arched an eyebrow. She expected a follow up to that statement but received none.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Mrs Abbott waved her away with a fake smile.

"Nothing at all, honey!"

She pursed her lips, considering the woman before her.

She was getting brave. She watched her over her nose and saw careful concentration in her eyes. She was being watched back. The situation was clear to her - Mrs Abbott had made a joke and was now waiting to see how it was taken.

Narrowing her eyes, she shifted to a more defensive position. She had a few options how she could react to that. She could laugh with her, thereby letting Mrs Abbott know she was open to banter and further conversation… Or she could shut it down, tell her it wasn't funny and she wasn't here to make friends. That was probably the smartest option. Or she could leave her guessing and blank the comment completely, leaving her unsure if she was heard and ignored or not.

She knew the correct option and the one the saviour that brought her here would push her toward. She also knew that that option would be extremely boring and destine her to more nights alone under the unfamiliar ceiling.

With a single puff of the chest, a dry chuckle escaped her lips. It wasn't entirely an honest one, but the joy it created on Mrs Abbotts face made the smile that followed genuine.

"I'll get Ol' Tom right on that!"

Grinning, she walked toward a door behind the bar, turning back to her as she reached for the handle. Her face lined, turning more professional than she usually held herself.

"That'll be about a twenty minute wait, is that alright love? Anythin' else you'll just have to give us a shout. Help yourself to the paper as you wait."

She gave a vague gesture of acknowledgment. As Mrs Abbott exited through the back, she gave a thin smile of self amusement.

What a miracle it was to have these concerns. How alien her life had become. How much had her life changed recently where deciding what drink to have with breakfast had become the biggest conflict occurring in her life? It was practically unthinkable.

She was a far cry away from Death Eaters and Werewolves now.

Her eyes trailed along the bar to the rolled up parchment, the one Mrs Abbott had suggested. With her company now absent, suppose it was actually a chance to read the paper finally.

/ ASSAULT ON HOGWARTS GROUNDS /

Trouble-teen Lady Daphne Greengrass has been arrested by the Auror Office after a physical altercation involving Hogwarts two newest staff - Professors Amycus and Alecto Carrow. This comes after a two-year history of rebellious behaviour, including her involvement with the rebel-cause Dumbledore's Army, her role as a participant in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries and her, as of yet, alleged, though unconfirmed, presence at the murder of Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore.

At Benedict Greengrass death, his fortune, properties and titles were all passed to his sole-of-age heir. Perhaps the fame of becoming the country's youngest millionaire was too irresistible for the witch who had already proven that she considers herself above the law? I, for one, neglected to see her in attendance at his funeral.

All those involved have refused to comment. The teens trail is being held this weekend and this is one reporter who will make sure she's present.

- Rita Skeeter

She stared at the picture of the girl, reading the names back to herself.

The paper trembled in her hand slightly. She felt a knot of tension that'd been building away for days suddenly intensify. A sickening, icy shiver slithered down her throat and welled in the pit of her stomach. For a moment, it took all her effort just to continue breathing as the headline began to blur.

"You quite alright, deary?"

She flinched. She gotten so invested that she hadn't realised she was no longer alone. She fumbled the paper and placed it face down, so she ought not look at the image any longer. She didn't move quick enough for her actions not to be noticed, though.

"Oh, are you looking up that werewolf attack from earlier? it's a terrible thing, isn't it? Poor Bill Weasley. The Weasleys have always been the sweetest lot…" Mrs Abbott shook her head, grimacing deeply.

Now, breathing deeply and with a sickeningly dry mouth, she considered the barlady before her again. She wondered, to what extent could she trust this woman? It was said people would tell their barman what they wouldn't tell their lawyer. And she seemed pleasant enough, she'd given her company and support in her time of need. But that was only her doing her job. She didn't think there was any malicious or secondary intent behind any of it, but she had been wrong before. How far could this hired-friend be trusted?

She glanced around at the empty bar to make sure there was no chance of being overheard.

Then, as she opened her mouth, she realised she had nowhere to begin. There was absolutely nothing she could say to her right now that would make any sense. Everything was happening so fast, there was so much wrong with this situation that she didn't know where to start - if she should at all.

"I knew him," she settled on.

This time it was her studying Mrs Abbot, watching her posture and waiting for a flicker of emotion behind the eyes. When Mrs Abbotts expression did indeed change, it softened, her eyebrows receding into her hairline and her bottom lip becoming more prominent.

"Awww, bloody hell, did you? Mates, were you?"

She felt her defence come down. She gave a single, closely guarded nod.

"... we went to school together."

She nodded knowingly.

"Mmm. His brothers in my daughter's year. Never met Bill myself, but Molly was a few years ahead of me in Hogwarts… Sweetest woman you ever did meet, always took care of the youngin's! I wasn't even in her house! Course… she was only Molly Prewett back then…"

While Mrs Abbott's voice dripped with nostalgia, she could feel her own anger beginning to kindle.

"Oh, I'll have to send her an owl with my love!" she clapped her hands together. "Though, I suppose she'll be absolutely flooded with them today… Want me to mention your name as well? Might stick out a bit more if Bill can get to hear from you too. Should I send him your love, yeah?"

She looked away, sickened by the thought, but willing herself to look as calm as the room around her.

She wanted to get out of here. She was a sitting duck out in the open. If they thought what happened to Bill was bad - that was nothing compared to the fate that awaited her.

"Carly?"

She stood up, feeling almost dizzy. She wasn't hungry anymore.

She mumbled something along the lines of an apology and excused herself. Mrs Abbott said something more, but she'd already mentally checked out at this point. Her body was moving on its own. It wanted safety. And with her head a jumble of mixed contradictions and feelings, she had one, guttural instinct ring over them all. Something inside her snapped and just like that, as though it were a simple flick of a switch, she gave up. All of a sudden, she didn't want to make friends, nor try to escape her situation whatsoever. In fact, the only thing she did want to do was get as far away as possible. Back to peaceful isolation.

She wobbled slightly, her knees weaker than usual, and steered herself toward the staircase. But the second she moved, her body screamed. Screamed at her to run. That she needed to get away. That it was going to happen again. That she shouldn't turn her back on the enemy. She was in danger. She was in danger right now.

She forced a brisk pace to her room door. It took a hard clenching of her lungs not to break into a run. The pub passed by like a blur.

As soon as she closed the door to her room, that strength ran out. She pushed her back against it, trying viciously to control her breaths. The room began to blur under a filter of tears.

Her want for more, her desire to rebuild - all of it was there and present, but it was being drowned out. She accepted and acknowledged all the thoughts she was having, and probably did care about them in some tightly-locked part of her head, but they paled in comparison to the daunting reality now descending upon her.

She couldn't keep pretending that she was some nobody in room fourteen.

It mattered. It mattered to her that her friend was lying with his guts exposed in a hospital bed. Or, someone who was once her friend. Regardless. It mattered. She had screwed up big time and almost cost Bill his life. There was no excuse for what had been done. And she had been involved. She could have stopped it. She could have done more.

She shook that thought from her head almost violently; thinking about it now would be a mistake.

And then there was a knock at the door.

A familiar fear rushed over her. The clouds outside appeared to grow harsher, giving life to the shadows in the room. It was as though water had begun seeping in around her and the bedroom walls suddenly rose ten feet, blocking off any escape. The torrent pushed and tugged, but she refused to let it move her.

She forced out a breath, slouching herself against the door. Slowly, she brought the knife out from her skirt.

"... who is it?"

"It's Alice, honey! Mrs Abbott! You forgot your breakfast!"

But that didn't sound true. It didn't sound true one bit.

Taking her time, she delicately brought herself back. She pushed herself to blink through the rising tears, forcing them silently down her face. The thumping in her chest began to placate.

"... leave it on the floor."

Only after any and all signs of life vanished from the corridor did the door creak open again.

Dark fragments of a thousand dreams filled her head, spinning into focus for only the briefest of glimpses before spinning away again. She was a child at the North Wales beach with her mother, the taste of salt on the wind. Then she was cheating in lessons, then a gawky teenager, in love for the first time at the Celestial Ball. She was training for her OWLS , ready to apply her skills to become the greatest witch who ever lived. Then... the death of their friend, at the hands of someone they thought was A mentor. Darker. The day mother returned. Darker still. The lovers she had betrayed, and who had betrayed her. Loneliness.

Room fourteen was very still, the following days. Hauntly so - the type found as dust settled over a natural disaster, though this scene were not as marked as that. Everything was orderly - though a mess, it was the casual sort. Clothes lay strewn around and a pile of wine bottles gathered in the corner, all now completely drained. The only battle that had been raged here was the mental kind, and likewise, the fallout that remained was one of unease and paranoia. Even after she woke up, a long time passed before she decided to acknowledge she had.

Her eyes felt heavy, as though she hadn't slept at all. She hadn't decided to fall asleep, the wine must have taken her again. No matter how much she slept these days she could never truly rest. Her body felt like lead and her thoughts just as heavy. Her veins were clogged and expanding, like her every cell was becoming thick and heavy with tar, clouding her judgement of reality and dream.

The morning after was always unavoidable, but waking up to this room again felt even more damning.

After only a few seconds of consciousness, however, her mind was kick-starting with worrisome thoughts and considerations - the ones she'd tried so hard to escape the night before. She'd drank to remove it but had ended up cementing it. She couldn't close her eyes now without seeing her. After Greengrass had overstayed her welcome, that's when the others had started. Bill Weasley had gotten off easily - he would live to breathe another day, while there were some chests that remained still, five foot under, because of her. Some of them by her negligence and others that… weren't.

She couldn't let herself dwell on it. She was a diamond in the rough, she was unstoppable so long as she kept confidence in herself. She always tried to make what she believed was the right choices. Yes, sometimes she had failed. But she knew what she wanted and nothing would stop her trying to achieve it. She believed in herself and that made her strong.

Where others had deviated from their plans, she'd torn up opportunities and spat in the face of different paths, remaining tunnel visioned to her destiny. And yes, that had made her better than them. She wanted it more and she worked harder than the rest of them to achieve it. That counted for something. And when it came to extreme circumstances, where others had chicken out and failed, she had stayed on course. You couldn't make an omelette without breaking some eggs. People should have known better than to get in her way. They should have been smarter, like her. They were faced with their own decisions and chose wrong - she refused to take the blame for their poor choices. They should have known she would lead them on the path to greatness and joined her, sought her favour, not fought against her. How well had it worked out for them? She entered their life as an opportunity for them to better themselves and they chose to fight against it. She would have brought them with her but… but they chose the wrong side…That was their fault, not hers. She wasn't to blame.

She swallowed deeply and after a second, turned over.

Everything she stood by was true and she'd stuck by that. But because they didn't like that truth, they were determined not to believe it, because then they HAVE to accept who's really in the wrong here. So they kept misunderstanding the situation, intentionally. Anything to keep themselves innocent and her as the toxic one. She was the only one that was speaking sense, but what does truth matter against the popular vote? Why hold yourself accountable when all the evil in the world could be pinned on one person instead?

Maybe things could have happened differently. Maybe her path could have been changed, if someone had just gone about it the right way. She was open minded, she had her future - but if someone came to her with a better alternative, she'd take that. She was interested in whatever side got her the best deal. If there was another way… she'd have listened. But nobody wanted to do that. They were all willing to demonise her, but she didn't remember any of them trying to change her mind. She didn't remember any of this support or friendship back when she needed it.

It was like everybody had just been waiting for the opportunity… It was a presence throughout her whole life, everyone knew her and who she was. They'd made their minds up about her before even meeting her. And the second something even remotely incriminating was on her - that was all it took to confirm all their suspicions. They had all been practically counting the seconds, waiting for her to go bad. When she looked to her so-called friends for support, it pushed them away. People claimed to be there for her, but when that actually required work and effort, she was being "selfish" and "manipulative". Say what you like about the way she treated her friends - she would never have treated them how they treated her.

She had never been loved as much as she loved.

She could not be blamed for her choices. They pushed her away. Every time she tried to rebuild and improve, each roadblock got worse and more intense. People knew which side they wanted to be on from the beginning. The facts weren't important. Back at the beginning, there were allegations about her doing awful things… and back then, she hadn't even done any of them. Anyone that knew her would know what she was and wasn't capable of. And clearly, nobody knew her. The way she saw it - if she was going to be lynched for crimes she didn't commit, was that anything but a welcome, free pass to do them anyway?

If everyone was already expecting her to be the bad guy, who was she to disagree? Why should she apologise for the monster she'd become? No one ever apologised for making her that way, after all. Nobody tried to help her. Nobody offered a better path. They had resigned her to being the bad guy because it was easier than helping her. And it came back to bite them. Because, unfortunately for them, she happened to be very good at it. She wasn't to blame. They were. All of them were.

But so was she.

She turned over again.

The injustice of it all was sickening.

A lot of time had passed since she'd woken up now. Through a gap in the curtain she saw the sky was dark, though that wasn't much of an indicator of time, this late into the year. The wind was howling again - winter had been hitting harsher than usual. Between no sleep and a near constant pump of anxiety, the days were beginning to blur together. Any euphoria she'd been beginning to feel had been stamped out and drowned. She didn't feel like going to the pub today. Or yesterday. Probably not tomorrow, either. In fact, the most movement she was able to manage was dragging herself off of the floor and under the covers.

Why was she still here? What even was her plan, now?

The rest of the world was dead to her. It was only full of those that didn't realise it yet, or those that sought to do her harm. Death Eater or Auror - the difference doesn't matter. She had lost every friend, every security and every hope for herself. She had her plan and did everything it took to achieve it. She sacrificed it all, her attention never wavering. Every step along the way had been building toward that eventual goal. And she'd finally achieved it… and lost it all again. She was less than nothing now. No money, home or friends. It'd take an uphill struggle for the rest of her life to even get back on the same level as everyone else. And what kind of life would that be? To go from that to being forced to live life as a normal person? What, was she supposed to work an eight hour job, five days a week? The absolute best she could ever possibly achieve was the sort of existence she'd always looked down on.

Even if by some miracle, if she won every lottery and swindled every opportunity and was actually able to get a morsel of her old life back - to what end? She'd still be doing it on her own. She'd lost the most important things to her, and even if she could get an absolute replica of her old life running again, it would be without them. The best that she could ever possibly achieve from this moment… was second best.

And she didn't settle for second best.

So where did that leave her?

She couldn't go back - bridges were burned for good. Everyone she knew either hated her or wanted her dead. Forwards wasn't an option. The life she'd have to live wasn't an existence she'd lower herself to even entertain. She never got a chance to mourn or feel sorry for herself. She was never allowed to feel sorry for the shit hand she'd been dealt, it was just constant moving ahead and scrambling to hold her life together.

The thought of stopping it all had occurred. The more she drank, the easier that option became. But truth be told, it scared her. Surely the misery of room fourteen in the Leaky Cauldron was still better than nothingness? At least alive, there was always hope of things getting better… no matter how unlikely it may seem. Still, the thought had occurred to her nonetheless. Initially she'd just entertained the idea, but now as things grew ever worse and the guilt of her sins caught her up… the fantasy almost came as a relief nowadays.

She rolled over again - startling herself that she did still exist on the physical plane - and noted the dagger on the floor.

That's how she'd do it. It wouldn't be quick or painless, but at least she'd feel something. Probably still just a fantasy at this stage, but the fact it always was an option comforted her, in a strange way. Every day she woke up and continued on - that was her choice. She hated herself for making it, but supposed it did her a little good to know she hadn't dropped quite that low. Not yet, anyway. Maybe she'd reconsider tomorrow, if she was feeling brave. Depends how she felt.

"... I'm so fucked."

Her voice broke as she spoke. She was thirsty, but knew leaving the room for water was beyond her capability. So she remained, dry-mouthed, in the bed of room fourteen of the Leaky Cauldron.

At some point that night, after darkness set in, screaming began outside. Spells and glass breaking, far enough away that she didn't panic, but close enough to get a good idea of what was going on. It could have just been a burglary, she supposed, but it didn't matter anymore. She wasn't going to check. The window was on the other side of the room and she wasn't brave enough to dare a peak.

Finally a significant emotion struck her as she realised with annoyance that she was out of wine. It had been the only way she'd been able to get to sleep recently, and last nights had been the last of it.

She's in the darkest cavern of her life and it will never get better. Even if she could rebuild, she'll never get back what she lost. She loved who she was, but who she was now just was not worth the pain. They abandoned her. She is only what they made her. They could rot in hell.

She'd be waiting. She'd save them a seat.