It was not uncommon in times of great stress for Livinia Lange to be haunted most ardently by her childhood nightmare of a muggle movie, her first in fact. At the very impressionable age of six years old, a clown eating children the same age as you are is not a pleasant experience in any shape, form, or fashion.

Viewing "It" at such a young age and with no previous knowledge that things on the muggle screen were not real. Even though she was six years old at the time, she has never forgotten a moment of that horrifying reel that passed over her eyes and imprinted itself in her brain.

These nightmares sent her reeling from her coma-like slumber and into the hours kept by workaholics and insomniacs. They pulled her out of the confines of the silky sheets squeezing her like a vice and into the cold, moist air of the Slytherin dungeons. Two minutes of sitting by the fire and listening to the clanging of the pipes and she knew she had to get out of there, despite the fact that she was only clad in a white tank top and gray shorts. Her hair was falling loose around her shoulders in almost a wild mangle. Her curls were squashed and the chestnut locks were unskillfully intertwined.

Blue eyes could be considered cobalt now that they were wet with terrified tears. Her skin was feverish and her cheeks flushed, but her blood felt like ice water. She had to clear her thoughts from those demonic eyes or she feared she would sink into madness.

Carefully pushing open the portrait door, she stumbled out into the cold hallway. Her trembling steps brought her up the stairs and into the Entrance Hall. Numbly, she carried herself up through the floors, clutching her thin body with tiny arms. The air of fear of detention had long passed. Not even the vampire was still wandering around.

Her face twisted in a wince at her sore ankle. Now it ached in cold weather. She would have to remember to pay those hoodlums back for that. Or, maybe she should reward them instead. They did bring her closer to the one she could not rid her mind mind of. The red haired angel that had saved her from humiliation. Knight in shining armor was the proper term. Those amused eyes were what she had been thinking about instead of the recent tragedy that was plaguing her, exhausting her. She had not had a decent night's sleep since the funeral.

Up the stairs and well on her way to the end of the Gryffindor Hallway, she was surprised when she found a dim light protruding from the left hand corridor on the left side of the second floor hall. Feeling her way down th wall -wand unlit due to the fact that she didn't want to disturb the very loudmouth portraits- she approached the doorway with careful steps. Ever so slightly she eased on the balls of her feet to the slightly ajar door, a natural curiosity that possessed all humans taking over. She leaned carefully to peak through the door. She held her breath tightly as she peered into what appeared as a bathroom. Despite her dreams, she found herself easing in inch by inc to get a better view.

Somehow, she wasn't shocked to find who she did hunched over his work lit by a gas lamp that was starting to fade. Curiosity and the immense longing she had to see him again (since his breakfast incident this morning) pulled her forward, tiny feet barely making a sound against the cold stone tile floor. Closer and closer she came until she was leaned over his shoulder ever so slightly to view what he was working so intently on. Whatever it was it certainly looked interesting. Her eyes roamed quickly over the diagram until they caught on a line not quite straight. Without meaning to, the words fell from her lips.

"Line B isn't quite straight."

The moment they slipped from her pink mouth she regretted them. She had given away her cover. She hoped to dear god now that she had not startled him. She had hoped to quietly sneak in and sneak out. She did not want him to think her a stalker or a freak. That would be awkward, as if being here early in the morning far from her bed wasn't enough.

current outfit:
pajamas