Mildew Floweret

The dawn was crisp and clear as Lucille quietly made her way down the snowy path from Hogwarts, her heart heavy with the weight of the previous night's events. The Yule Ball, which had started with such promise, had left her feeling more isolated than ever. The sharp sting of her harsh words to Harry still lingered, and she carried a mix of regret and weariness as she returned the elegant dress to Fleur and packed her belongings.

Arriving at the train station, she handed over her trunk and waited for Remus to arrive. The cold air bit at her cheeks, and she watched the steam rise from her breath, mingling with the frost that clung to the platform. A small letter, hastily scribbled in her hurried departure, lay tucked in her coat pocket, instructing Remus to pick her up.

When Remus finally arrived, his face was etched with concern and a hint of weariness. "Lucille," he greeted warmly, wrapping her in a quick embrace before helping her with her luggage. "How was the ball? You’ve had quite a journey."

Lucille hesitated, her emotions tangled. "It was… an experience," she said, offering a weak smile. "I just need to go home."

As they apparated back to their house, Lucille was caught off guard by an unexpected sight. The familiar surroundings of their home were blanketed in snow, and the sight of Buckbeak—her father's beloved Hippogriff—wandering near the woods brought a flicker of comfort. But her attention was quickly drawn inside, where she discovered an unexpected guest.

Upon entering her room, Lucille was surprised to see Sirius Black sleeping in her bed. His presence was both surprising and awkward. Despite their shared history, Lucille felt a lingering discomfort around him, a remnant of the turbulent times they had shared. Sirius lay sprawled across the bed, his black hair tousled and his face relaxed in sleep.

"Is he supposed to be here?" Lucille asked, her voice barely a whisper, as she turned to see Remus emerging from the kitchen, brushing snow off his shoulders.

Remus looked over and smiled, a mix of amusement and affection in his eyes. "Ah, Sirius. He decided to visit for the holidays. He must have been tired after the journey. I had no idea he'd make himself so at home."

Lucille watched as Remus crossed the room and gently shook Sirius's shoulder. "Sirius, wake up. I believe you have a guest."

Sirius stirred, blinking sleepily. He looked at Remus and then at Lucille, his expression shifting from confusion to recognition. "Ah, Lucille. I didn’t realize you’d be back so soon."

"Just got in," Lucille said, trying to keep her tone neutral. She felt a twinge of discomfort, but she tried to push it aside. "I hope you’ve been well."

Sirius sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Better now that I’m not sleeping in the cold," he said with a chuckle. "But it's good to see you. I heard about the ball. How did it go?"

Lucille hesitated, unsure of how to articulate the turmoil of the past few days. "It was... eventful," she said finally, not wanting to delve into the details.

Remus noticed her unease and gently took her arm. "Let’s get you settled in and warmed up. We can talk more over some hot chocolate."

As they moved to the kitchen, Lucille cast one last glance at Sirius, who had begun to stretch and yawn. She felt a strange mix of relief and awkwardness. She hoped that this would be a time for healing and reconnection, despite the remnants of unresolved tensions.

The snow continued to fall softly outside, muffling the world in a blanket of white, and for a moment, Lucille allowed herself to imagine that things might settle and bring some peace to her chaotic heart.

Remus entered the house with a stormy expression, clutching an envelope with Hermione Granger’s name scrawled across it. The door slammed behind him, shaking the walls with the force of his anger. Lucille, who had been attempting to settle back into her room, was startled by his abrupt entrance.

"Lucille," Remus’s voice thundered, "Did you truly tell Harry Potter that he deserves to be an orphan?"

Lucille froze, her breath catching in her throat. "How do you know that?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Remus held up the envelope, his face a mask of frustration and disappointment. "This letter is from Hermione Granger. She describes in detail what happened between you and Harry. I can't believe what I’m reading."

Lucille's eyes widened as she saw the letter's return address. "So what else did she say?"

Remus’s eyes blazed with anger. "She detailed your entire confrontation, including those despicable words you threw at Harry. Do you have any idea how much that must have hurt him? James and Lily gave their lives to protect this world, and now their son has to endure this sort of hatred from you. I feel ashamed of what you’ve said."

Tears welled up in Lucille’s eyes, but she struggled to hold them back. "You don’t even want to hear my side of the story. You just assume the worst."

Remus’s voice softened slightly but remained stern. "I feel terribly ashamed that a daughter of mine could say something so terrible to the son of James and Lily, the one they gave their life for. If McGonagall or anyone else sends one more letter of complaint about you, I will seriously consider not allowing you to return to Hogwarts."

The finality in his voice struck Lucille hard. She felt a cold pang of realization about how isolated she had become. "That’s a fantastic idea," she said bitterly, her voice cracking with emotion. "I don’t want to go back there anyway."

Without waiting for a response, Lucille grabbed her coat and boots, pulling them on with shaky hands. The winter air outside was frigid, and the snow had begun to fall heavily, covering the world in a thick, white blanket. She stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

The cold hit her immediately, sharp and stinging. Snowflakes caught in her hair and melted on her cheeks, mixing with the tears she couldn’t hold back. She trudged through the deepening snow, each step heavy with her frustration and sorrow. The biting wind seemed to echo the turmoil inside her.

Remus, watching from the window, felt a deep ache in his heart. He knew the conversation had been harsh, but it had come from a place of deep concern and disappointment. He wished there was a way to bridge the gap that had widened between them, but at that moment, all he could do was watch as Lucille disappeared into the snowy landscape, feeling helpless and regretful.

Lucille trudged through the thickening snow, her thoughts swirling as fast as the snowflakes around her. The bitter cold was starting to numb her feelings, but it did little to soothe the ache in her heart. She was surprised when Sirius Black joined her outside, seemingly unaffected by the icy conditions. Wrapped in Remus’s clothes, he lit a cigarette, though he offered it with a jest, saying, “Want one? Just kidding.”

Lucille gave him a half-hearted smile, grateful for his presence. They sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the crunch of snow underfoot and the occasional hiss of Sirius’s cigarette. Sirius seemed contemplative, occasionally glancing at Lucille.

“You know,” Sirius began after a stretch of quiet, “when I was at Hogwarts, Remus used to get so angry before each full moon. He’d say things he didn’t really mean. It was like he was a different person. But I always knew he didn’t mean it. I forgave him every time, just like he forgave me for the prank with Snape.”

Lucille looked up at him, puzzled. “Why are you telling me this?”

Sirius shrugged, his expression softening. “I just want you to understand that Remus cares a lot for you. He might seem harsh sometimes, but it’s only because he loves you so much.”

Lucille’s laughter was tinged with bitterness. “Loves me? He doesn’t seem to have time for me. He’s always out, working, and he never actually spends quality time with me. I feel like he loves Harry more than he loves me.”

Sirius’s smile didn’t waver. “Remus loves you very much, Lucille. Everything he does, he does out of love. We’re here in the mountains because he wants to keep you safe, not because he doesn’t care about you. He wants to protect you from the world.”

Lucille absorbed his words, her face illuminated by the soft glow of a nearby lamp. “Protected from who?” she asked.

“From anyone who might harm you or from the dangers out there,” Sirius answered. “He just wants to keep you safe.”

Lucille sighed, feeling a weight lift slightly from her chest. “I didn’t mean what I said to Harry. I was so angry because everyone keeps reminding me I’m a werewolf and because I lost all my friends. I let all that anger out on him.”

Sirius nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I get it. The world can be harsh, and it’s easy to take your frustrations out on others. But your confidence has to come from within. Don’t let the opinions of others dictate how you feel about yourself. You need to learn to be your own friend and not rely on outside validation.”

Lucille took a deep breath, letting his words settle in her mind. It was a new perspective, one that felt both challenging and liberating. As the snow started falling more heavily, they slowly made their way back inside, the cold and darkness giving way to the warm glow of the house.

As the Hogwarts Express chugged into the station and Lucille stepped off the train, the winter air bit at her cheeks, a stark contrast to the warmth of the castle. The holiday season had done little to ease her bitterness, and she felt it clinging to her like a second skin. Her return to Hogwarts was marked by a renewed sense of isolation and resentment.

In the castle, Lucille’s mood was evident to anyone who crossed her path. Her once vibrant demeanor had dimmed to a sullen indifference. She moved through the corridors with her head down, avoiding eye contact with her peers, who seemed to sense her anger and distance themselves accordingly. Lucille was particularly resentful towards those who had once been part of her social circle—Padma, who seemed lost in her new relationship with a Durmstrang boy, and the Weasley twins, who had distanced themselves from her in favor of new pranks and new friends.

McGonagall’s stern gaze and Flitwick’s cheerful demeanor did little to alleviate her frustrations. Every reprimand from Snape seemed more personal, a symbol of her growing disillusionment with the institution she had once valued. The house-elves in the kitchens became her refuge. Their warm smiles and cheerful chatter provided a temporary escape from the loneliness that consumed her.

Lucille’s academic performance began to falter. She skipped classes, often opting to hide away in the kitchens or in the less frequented parts of the castle. She would occasionally attend a class but remained disengaged, her assignments left unfinished and her grades slipping. Her teachers noticed her decline, but their concerns were met with a wall of indifference from Lucille.

The library, once a place of solace and learning, had become another battleground of frustration. The quiet whispers of students, the rustling of pages, all seemed to mock her. The weight of her unresolved anger and pain was overwhelming, and she found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on her studies. The prospect of failure loomed, but it seemed insignificant compared to the emotional turmoil she was experiencing.

Even the house-elves, who had become her unlikely companions, could sense her distress. They tried to cheer her up with their usual hospitality, offering her a variety of treats and engaging her in light conversation. Yet, Lucille’s responses were curt, her gratitude hollow. She appreciated their kindness but felt disconnected from the joy they were trying to offer.

As days turned into weeks, Lucille's isolation became more pronounced. She avoided group activities, skipped meals in the Great Hall, and rarely participated in any social or academic events. The castle that once felt like home now seemed vast and indifferent, mirroring the coldness she felt inside.