Out of the frying pan and into the fire. The situation had in fact gone from bad to worse. While the whole school knew of the event that had led to such sorrowful behavoir from this feminine figure, they were ignorant of the pain she now felt. A dull throbbing in her heart. It was as if she had been shot through the heart and the wound have never healed. Now she was forced to face everyday with the people that had loved him as well. She was forced to put on a happy face and pretend that she wasn't insulted that they'd so quickly forgotten him. As of late, her behavoir had become self-distructive. She knew what was happening, but was helpless to stop it. She was too proud to ask for help and thus she sank further and further into the quicksand that was her troubles.

It was not the smartest way to deal with loss. As many had pointed out, she was putting herself at risk. But how could she deny herself the one means in which she actually felt alive? She was primative in her thinking, true. She'd been told, however, that it was the natural human reaction to death. Everyone wants to feel alive after they've lost someone close to them and for most, that means sex. It was just unusual for her to still feel the complusions and need to wash herself clean of the shadow of death that hung around her like a cloud of despair. She'd learned to simply ignore or downplay the reprocusions of her actions. She ignored when her one-night-stand send her owls wanting to know why she was avoiding them. She downplayed the itching and inflamation she sometimes got after a one-night-stand. She acted as if it wasn't a big deal to have contracted an STD and took a bit of potion to wash it out of her system. She knew she was lucky now to be involved in the wizarding world. Without magic, she would spend countless hours clearing up her ailments and having to live in shame because everyone would know. Here, it was a secret. She brewed the potion herself with ingrediants she bought under a phony name. She read the recipe when the library had been abandoned and committed it to memory so she wouldn't have to check the book out.

But now she'd come across something she couldn't downplay. For now, she could keep it a secret. No one had noticed the way her milky skin on her stomach pulled taunt over the slight mound that now rested there. She'd shown no signs of the usual ailments that accompanied her condition. She hadn't pulled out of Quidditch or her usualy activities. She had no plans to. True, she was lost and confused at what she should do. She planed to sort through it later.

Now with a slow and steady step, she enters the Great Hall. Her newly purchased robes hang loosely on her figure, showing off her curves ever-so-slightly, but while leaving much to the imagination. She wasn't the flashy kind. In fact, she found most of her lovers had been drawn to her because of her innocence. She walks with a natural grace and confidence, easily weaving her way through the somewhat crowded enterence way. She then made her way to her table, lowering herself gingerly on the Ravenclaw bench. Her long black hair hung loosely down her back and shined as the light caught it. Though with a turn of her head, the light is gone, leaving only the morose sorrow of the female. Ruby red lips part as a greeting is issued to one of her house mates and a smile pulls at the corner of her mouth, but it doesn't quite reach her almond-shaped eyes. It is obvious to all those that know her that something more than usual is troubling her, however, she's still in denial.