a/n: wowowowowow has it been over a year? That's wild. I graduated highschool in the meantimeand also lived in Europe for 4 months hehe cool enjoy your chappie

real talk tho im super sorry, just been super depressed recently and have been stagnating like an old fish tank so haven't really written a single thing for a long ass time.

please let me know if anyone actually wants me to continue this dang story or is even just reading it at all

The canopy above my bed had a tear in the fabric, the maroon material fraying ever so slightly at the edges. It was probably the length of my thumb, and I wondered what had caused it. Maybe a Severing Charm gone astray. It was practically invisible, largely hidden in the ruching of the drapes, and the only reason I'd noticed it was because I'd been lying face-up on my four-poster bed for the past five hours, doing nothing but stare blankly at the space above me.

I'd made myself scarce around the Gryffindor Dormitories recently, too scared that I'd run into Alice or Dom. Today was an exception; everyone was enjoying a rare day of sunlight in Hogsmeade, or roaming the grounds. I think I was the only person pathetic enough to mope about indoors.

Scorpius' voice echoed through my head. His words swirled around and around in my mind and each sentence ripped open a new wound, each insult pouring salt into my torn up brain, tripling the agony. And despite that, I just lay in bed, counting the loose stitches on my curtains. I was sick of trying to convince people that I was sorry. I think there was a part of me that was just too exhausted to try anymore; that I had cried myself silent.

Or maybe I was finally starting to believe what everyone had been whispering behind my back, the snatches of conversations I'd heard as I walked down the corridor.

Rose Weasley used people for her own benefit.

Rose Weasley didn't care about who she hurt.

Rose Weasley was pretending to be someone else for a year.

Rose Weasley was a stone-cold bitch.

She was arrogant and cruel and too damn weak to face up to what she did.

The swell of words rose, and I could hear the voices of everyone I had hurt scream at me until I could just hear a heavy thunder ringing through my ears. It was enough to make me want to scream. It wasn't until I felt the sharp pain in my hands that I realised I'd been digging my nails into my palms, and they finally broke skin. The noise in my head quietened as I raised my hand above my head and watched as blood welled to the surface with an abject fascination.

At least it proved I was still alive. That I was still myself, still Rose Weasley, despite the fact that I wasn't too sure who Rose Weasley really was anymore. I'd stepped into someone else's life for the past few months, and now I wasn't sure what would be left of me if I took that away.

Dropping my hand back to my side, I tried to think back to the last time I'd really known who I was. The first memory that came to mind was last summer. I'd been sitting on the floor of Avy's bedroom as she was draped atop her bed, each with a book in hand. My mouth twitched in the feeble imitation of a smile as I remembered how we used to read the same book at the same time, simply so we could see each others reactions and talk about our favourite parts.

Avy had joked and said it was because no one else could read as fast as her, or that I was the only other person she knew who liked the same cheesy muggle fantasy novels as her. I think that I just liked hearing what she had to say about every book. Avy had a way of seeing the world that absolutely fascinated me.

I'd thought that was who I was. It was definitely all I had been. Maybe it's what everyone wished I was again. Sometimes, I did a little bit, too.

But then I remembered every night I'd stayed up crying because my essay didn't get 100%, every invitation to hang out with friends that I'd declined for the sake of study, the feeling that I was balancing on the worlds' tallest building and everyone was just waiting with bated breath to see when I would fall, and a girl that was so terrified of placing a toe out of line in case that was what sent her toppling over, and I knew that I couldn't go back to being her. I don't think it was even possible. Not now, anyway.

This person now, though, this person who was mean and angry and cold, she wasn't someone I wanted to be either. Not when she could pick out her friends' insecurities and hurl them in her face, like I did to Alice. Not when she could throw away everything she'd ever worked for just on a whim. Not when she lied and hurt people and pushed away anyone she'd ever loved. And for what? For a stupid bet from a cousin she didn't even particularly like?

I sat upright, furious with myself all over again. I don't know how I could have been so pathetically stupid. With a growl, I lashed my arm out and struck one of my four-posters, with enough force to elicit a loud crack, though whether it came from the wood or my bones was another question. Tears smarted my eyes and I cradled my hand to my chest, cursing my own impulsiveness, and rolled off my bed to get some ice from the Hospital Wing to soothe the throbbing that was developing in my last three fingers.

I hadn't encountered anyone since breakfast, which was why I was so shocked by the sight of a figure entering the Portrait Hole, in the process of taking off her jacket. I stopped, one foot hovering above a step, and stared.

Dominique didn't exactly meet my eyes, her gaze flickering from my face to her feet to the fireplace. After sixteen years together, I knew her well enough to tell that she was nervous. Probably with reason.

"Uh, no-one else is back from Hogsmeade yet," Dom mumbled, cheeks reddening, "I left early because my date was an absolute toad."

I simply nodded, unsure whether this was an invitation for me to speak or if she simply felt like she had to explain herself. A flush of shame ran through me at the thought of her being scared of me. Silence filled the room for a beat, hanging between us.

"Anyway, I'd better get changed for dinner," she blurted, moving to make her way up to the Seventh Year Dormitory.

I nearly stood by and let her, but as she brushed past me to go up the staircase, something in me simply couldn't let her.

"Dom, wait," I called, and watched her tense. She turned though, looking at me with hesitant eyes.

"I- I wanted to say- Well I'm not really sure, I just- I can't-." Words seemed to fall from my mouth before I had any idea of what to say, and I finally paused to take a deep breath and steady my heart that was rattling unpleasantly in my chest, before continuing.

"I'm sorry, Dom, I really am. I'm sick of convincing myself that I didn't do anything wrong, because we both know I did. The whole bloody school knows I did." I weakly laughed at my attempt at a joke. Dom didn't. Fair call. Instead, she just looked at me blankly, which I interpreted as my cue to continue speaking.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you, Dom. And that I've hurt Alice and my family and basically everyone else in my life. I'm sorry, because you don't deserve that, Dom. And I get why you don't want to talk to me, really. I've been a huge bitch, but I just want you to know that I'm going to try and be better."

I glanced at my cousin, cheeks blazing, my clumsy apology hanging in the air. She was frowning, which I didn't take to be a good sign. Resigning myself, I started walking, with the intention of going to the Hospital Wing, but Dom's clear voice made me halt.

"That's not why I haven't been talking to you."

I turned back.

"What?"

"I didn't stop talking to you because you were being a bitch. Although, you were. I stopped talking to you because I felt like I was watching you implode, and that scared the shit out of me, Rose."

My mouth hung open, in what I can only assume was a really stellar impersonation of a goldfish.

"What do you mean?"

Dom rolled her eyes and then grabbed me by the forearm and dragged me to the sofa next to the fireplace.

"Merlin, Rose, maybe you're not as bright as I thought you were. Look, this bet thing started out with you just wearing some makeup and coming to a few parties with me, and I thought it was fine and dandy. I thought maybe it was a good thing that you were coming out of your shell and loosening up a little. But Rose, this thing completely took over you. You stopped coming to classes, you talked back to every fucking teacher in this school, you got so wasted at every damn party we went to. You started smoking! Where the fuck did that come from! And it was like, every time someone mentioned anything about it, you'd do even more. You got in a fight with your dad and you ran out and got a tattoo, for Merlin's sake."

Dom's speech was picking up its pace, her words coming out sharp and breathy the more worked up she became, and there was nothing I could do but sit and listen.

"It was like you stopped caring about everything. Like you got sucked into this whirlpool and you were so far in and you didn't even realise. And then you started lashing out at people without caring how much you hurt them or how much you hurt yourself. And it wasn't even about the bet anymore, it was like you just wanted to see how far you could go. And this fight with Alice just showed that, and honestly, it scared me. It scared me to see you like that and not know how to fix it."

Dominique's face was blurry as my eyes clouded with tears, but that didn't stop me from feeling her sobs shake the couch. I reached out a hand – my good hand – and squeezed hers. I thought about the endless classes I'd ditched simply to smoke in an empty classroom, how many nights I didn't entirely remember. I thought back to the start of the year, when I had to constantly remind myself that I needed to be rebellious, plan everything out meticulously to appear aloof, and tried to find the point where it had become second nature for me to disappoint people, and a fresh wave of tears came.

"I'm sorry," I said again, the words feeling hollow at this point. "I don't know why I did it. I didn't realise what I was doing until it was too late. And now I'm scared that I've been acting this way for so long that there's nothing left of myself."

"I'm sorry too, Rosie," I looked at her in shock, wondering what on earth Dom could be sorry for, "I knew that you were struggling and I just walked away for you to deal with this mess by yourself. I wasn't brave."

"Don't be a prat, Dom." I shook my head furiously, not letting her take the blame for what was a parade of mistakes, all of which were written, conducted and orchestrated by me.

I was just basking in the joy of having Dominique smile at me for the first time in the larger part of a month, when she pulled me into a rough hug, effectively jarring my hand and reminding me simultaneously that I do indeed, seem to lash out and hurt myself and those around me.

"I miss my Rosie," she mumbled in my ear, amid my mass of curls. I sniffed again, wishing I was a pretty crier.

"Me too," I replied, the words barely escaping my mouth, soft enough that they could have fallen straight off my tongue and on to the carpet, and yet I was sure Dominique had heard them. The way that she squeezed me tighter told me she had.

I'll tell you now, staring at yourself in the mirror for too long can be emotionally damaging. Your own face starts playing tricks on you, making you very sure that you were much uglier than you had ever realised. And yet, this is what I found myself doing at near two in the morning, with my too-small pyjama pants grazing my ankles and the stonework floor sapping any warmth that may have once resided in my feet.

I was searching for some sort of reassurance. Some sort of comfort in my own features, the reminder that I was still there. And to an extent, it worked. Until I noticed how dark my eye bags had grown, and how gauntly my skin seemed to settle on my cheekbones and how there appeared to be a storm raging within my eyes.

I drew my fingers through my hair, sighing as it frizzed up even more. To be frank, the girl I saw in the mirror looked like a bit of a basket-case, although really, I couldn't blame her. She'd been through a hell of a lot in the past weeks. The stress clawed in my mind and tumbled in my stomach, and almost by instinct I reached into my pocket and pulled out a near-empty pack of cigarettes, lighting it with my wand and deeply inhaling before I even realised what I was doing.

My eyes turned to the mirror once again, and I watched as the smoke billowed around me, seeming to hover but never fully touch me. My hands returned to my hair, hoping to pull it into a tight bun, something I hadn't done in months, in an effort to look more familiar to myself, and in doing so, my jumper rode up my stomach, and my gaze fell on something resting on my upper hip.

A tiny pile of ash, glowing like a volcano, had settled in a little pile, and the phoenix that was once inked into my skin was hidden amongst the ashes, though I could see its shape breathing. The orange would glow brighter with every inhale, like it was fuelling the heat itself. Perhaps it was. It seemed almost funny, how it's body was burning while I stood in a cloud of smoke. Fitting, to a degree.

The cigarette in my fingers went limp as I thought back to Dominique's words.

"Right, Weasley," I muttered to myself, taking one final inhale of the cigarette before stubbing it out in the sink, "it's officially time for you to get your shit together."

I marched to the nearest toilet stall, and grabbed the cardboard box from my pocket. My fingers trembled slightly as I watched the cigarettes fall into the toilet, slowly at first, and then a cascade. A small moment of hesitation overcame me as my hand hovered above the flush button, thinking back to days of smoking with Lottie and Scorpius and Theo, and the laughs that coloured the air as we sat beneath a haze of fog, and the taste of burnt love on Scorpius's tongue, and for a second I wanted to simply be who I had thought I was for these past few months.

And then it was gone, and I was back, alone in a bathroom, silent aside from the sound of a toilet flushing.

I once again looked in the mirror, hands pressed to the counter and lips pressed together, smoke finally settling on my hair, and fire finally back in my eyes.

"If a phoenix can remake itself from the ashes, then so the fuck can you."

A/N o shit what did y'all think?