There was something so beautiful about knowing that she wouldn’t be back in these halls for another few months. Tragic, still, because Hogwarts had become a home she hadn’t meant to make for herself, but there was a peace inside her heart knowing that she’d return back to her childhood home, to parents that would be dazzled with lame stories of changing tea cups to toadstools, to obnoxiously pink walls and a large fluffy bed and her music. Gods, that’s what she missed most, when it boiled down to it. She missed being able to roll over and fiddle with her record player, missed the way her Joplin B-track always skipped right at the most heartfelt chorus, missed the way the vibrations filled her. The only thing that came close to it was magic, and she was still a few months away from doing that whenever she pleased.
Seventh year, she was going to be a seventh year. And Head Girl, because Dumbledore accidentally ate a pot brownie for breakfast and thought that was going to be a good idea. She didn’t really focus on the hows and the whys or the whats about it -- it would force her to think about how Dumbledore skipped over Remus Lupin the sensible choice for Head Boy and picked Potter, of all fucking people. If she didn’t have an incredible amount of respect for the man, she’d wonder if he had been high. Or if he just had a terrible sense of humor he managed to keep hidden for seven years before revealing it in literally the worst joke Lily has ever heard. Regardless, there she was, looking reluctantly on what looked like a long ass year of avoiding the fuck out of the very person she was supposed to run the school with.
She ran a hand through her hair and let out a breath, tossing the last of her things haphazardly into her trunk. She didn’t need to pack it too properly, since her mother would demand that she immediately unpack it the moment she got home. There’d be time to launder out the wrinkles and take proper care of her textbooks; she had one last day in these halls and she wasn’t about to spend it making sure her inks were properly cared for. She slipped on her shoes and barrelled down the stairs of the common room. She could meet Gigi in the Great Hall and convince her friend to skip out to the lake. She could pretend to work on her tan but mostly just take the day to lazily dip her feet in the water and gossip about whatever craziness Gigi was attempting to avoid now. Knowing her friend, she had accidnetally convinced herself that they were all heathens. Maybe Lily could convince her the lake was full of holy water. Then again, that wasn’t particularly nice, and it was far too early in the day for that level of cruelty.
Well, at least that’s what she thought until she ran face-first into the chest of one Mr. Sirius Black.
”Oh, fuck!” she exclaimed loudly, pressing a hand to her face as she dazedly took a giant step back. She was a little dizzy from both the sudden stop and the hard crash, but thankfully hadn’t actually lost her balance. She rubbed at her forehead balefully, blinking up at him. ”Jesus, where the fuck did you even come from? Trying to climb the stairs again or something?” she said, admittedly not one of her better insults or -- or, okay, she wasn’t even sure if she was actually trying to insult Sirius. She was mostly just trying not to let on just how firm his chest had been, how much it had hurt to crack her head off of it.
Vaguely, she wondered if Potter’s was just as firm, seeing as they both played Quidditch together, but she was totally chalking that one up to the head injury. Completely. Only a mild concussion would cause her to think of such things. Obviously.