This chapter is dedicated to lilypotter07seeker just for being here I guess! Thanks for the support!
Love you ♥️♥️♥️

(11th April 1978)

When Mary MacDonald awoke, something felt different. There was a shift in the air, a hole that nothing would ever fill.
She looked up from her bed to see the one opposite her left empty in the morning light, neatly made and cleared of any traces there had been a girl there just the night before.

Her side of the wardrobe was empty as well, everything she had ever loved was gone. Her lavender shampoos and spearmint toothpaste from the bathroom; her favourite pair of black boots from the space beside the door; and the ring she wore everyday on her middle finger– the one James bought for her.

The only thing left was her Gryffindor scarf, it was left over Mary's bedpost. Instinctively, Mary picked it up and held it close to her chest. It smelt like vanilla, cherries, and something sad. Endings and forevers.

Only when her MPP badge had spun three times did Mary notice and pick it up. The message broke her heart, and she wondered if the sound would wake up Trudy and Aliona.

I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Please forgive me, and hopefully forget me.
Esme-Leigh x

(6th April 1978)

Lily saw the flowers were missing from the table the next day. She found them instead, piled into the bin along with shards of broken glass.

"Well done."

Startled, she turned on her heel to see Petunia watching her like something dirty, to be despised.
"What?"

"Mum and dad were happy and you weren't for five seconds, so you made a scene."

Lily glowered at her sister, an anger she was becoming familiar with burned white hot in her veins.
"You know that's not the case."

"Do I?" Petunia asked incredulously, throwing up her pale manicured hands to the ceiling. Her hair looked it's wildest when she was angry, usually so sleek and perfect, suddenly appeared like there was a storm in the kitchen.
"Because you seem to have made a habit of it. Ever since we found out you were a freak—"

The jars on the pantry shelf began to shake.
Clearly Petunia did not notice...
"You've been tearing the damn place down!"

A smash.

Martin Evans came running into the room to see a China plate fall directly above his eldest daughter's head.
"LILY!"

Lily said nothing, only allowed her jaw to go slack as she stared at the damage she could have caused.
"I'm going," she mumbled before pushing past her father and into the morning air.

As she walked, Lily found she didn't much care about the magic anymore, it was more about the close call she'd had. It made her think...

The hill where she was headed was high but it was also beautiful and good for thinking. Lily had thought most her life, memories, dreams, thoughts, feelings, all seemed to haunt her.

Maybe the art of giving up, that her father had spoke about, wasn't such a bad idea?...

It was a strange thought, one that felt strange as she contemplated it. But wasn't that the only option she had? Didn't it make sense, to avoid this pain, this heartbreak with James before it could occur?

Magic still flooded her veins as she stood on the hilltop, watching the world pass her by. She screamed, just so see what would happen.

A tree fell over, somewhere. She hardly noticed.

(6th April 1978)

The astronomy tower was quiet during lessons like these, when students were left alone with telescopes to make their peace with the stars.
Esme-Leigh had often made this an avid time to daydream, though it was midnight, so one could not correctly call her thoughts daydreams. But they were something distant and whimsical.

Though today she was occupied by a letter. One she'd been sent that morning, and one she wished she could burn.

Esme-Leigh Bisset,

We are writing to confirm your enrolment in Beauxbatons this year. A place has been confirmed for you, pending a sorting upon arrival, and several club or sport commitments will be available also.

You will find a timetable enclosed with this letter which will begin as soon as you arrive.
Other formal arrangements such as rules, curfews and other potential questions you may have shall be addressed by the Headmistress and the Head Students upon arrival also.

We look forward to welcoming you to our school.

Kind regards,

Luc Heni (deputy head master)

The letter had been in English, which was arguably the worst part of the whole ordeal. If it had been written to her in French, then perhaps she wouldn't have felt so ostracised. It was a queer feeling, to realise that you don't belong somewhere, but Esme had never even contemplated the idea that she wouldn't belong at Beauxbatons either.

Around her, the astronomy students were eerily quiet, bar the clinks of metal tools and nobs on telescopes, and Mary's gentle breathing next to her. If Esme knew any better, she might think that Mary had almost fallen asleep.

But despite Mary's presence, it only did more to outcast her further, because Mary was not the same as she was before. It pained to even think it, but the fact of the matter is that everyone needed someone now, but nobody needed her. It had become increasingly obvious that Hogwarts no longer needed Esme-Leigh. And so she would leave.

There was no reason to stay, nothing to tie her here, and Esme could not idly sit and know this for any longer. Under the sky, in a daydream that wasn't quite a day, she decided she would go, and she would not come back.

Perhaps it was the end, but Esme would walk towards it with grace.

♣ ♣ ♣

(6th April 1978 continued)

There is a certain melancholy following Esme-Leigh and Mary on the walk back to the dorms that night. Something palpable that felt the colour blue, somber, perhaps purple like the dawn sky.

They roamed the corridors in silence, thicker than the morning mist that curled around the windows and crept into the halls with dexterous grace.

Their hands were close together, almost brushing, but neither dared take the other's. Esme glanced down to see the freckles on Mary's hand make her skin appear darker as they bled together in the low light. She found herself wondering what it might feel like beneath her own fingertips. Soft and light, steady and comforting. There.

Esme crossed her arms suddenly, as if she had just caught up with her train of thought. Mary didn't seem to notice at first, but her bottom lip was slack, seconds away from quivering. Or perhaps Esme was looking too closely.

There were a millions things she might say. Secrets she was tried of keeping, like that letter in her desk drawer, from Beauxbatons, or the one from her mother, arranging to take her away.

Goodbyes were never something Esme-Leigh expected to do. She had always pictured herself as a spontaneous soul that required no finality or definition; like she might float from one place to the next, and the people around her might gradually forget she ever existed. She used to think this was an oddly romantic idea, but now things were different. Because when the push came to the shove, she realised how deeply wrong she was. Goodbyes were necessary, but telling Mary? It felt like the end of something, something she didn't want to mark with closing curtains because the act had yet to begin. The end before the beginning. She was doing it all wrong.

And so Esme held her arms tighter around her torso and ignored the burning need to address Mary's upset towards her. She would push it down, and when the time came, she would float out of Mary's life in hopes that one day she might forget her completely.

Esme-Leigh would not say goodbye, even if that meant she would never get to see that opening act.

♣ ♣ ♣

(7th April 1978)

The world came to an end that day and began with a sunrise the colour of blood. Ozma Periwinkle watched it rise, the horizon tainted with a bloodstain. The sixth year girls were all still asleep, they usually were, Ozma herself was the only early riser in the dorm. Even Zoë Richardson, who was on the quidditch team, hardly ever rose early unless it was for a practise, and even then her charmed alarm clock would have to blare at least seven warnings before it gave up and smacked her in the face.

However today, Ozma would miss seeing such a funny little scene, because this was killing her and now was the only time she would ever have the courage to say it. So Ozma left the dorm in relative silence, and knocked gently on the door of the seventh year girls.

Trudy answered, it felt much more like fate now, because if it had been Esme-Leigh, Mary or Aliona, there was a high chance she would bottle it and go back to her bed. But it was Trudy, so something somewhere must be on her side.

"Hey, can we go for a walk?"

Trudy smiled softly, her chestnut hair had grown out to chin length and it framed her face better now, illuminating her smile.
"Sure, let me get a jumper."

The grounds were quiet that morning, the redness of the grass made it seem almost dystopian, and the lake looked like it might have been on fire. As they walked, Ozma found they were veering towards the forest. She always found herself close to the forest.

The trees around them were tall and leering, but in a less threatening way than most might assume about the Forbidden Forest. First years used to dare each other to run in as far as they could, and they'd come sprinting out, panting and denying it was terrifying. But in truth, they just hadn't spent enough time to really look at the forest. Once inside, it was actually very beautiful. The trees did not tower and leer, but rather they branched around the sky like a protective hug. The green was a comforting colour, not a foreboding one. And the animals were distant, barely there, half only rumours.

"Sometimes I come here to think," Ozma said as she led her girlfriend into the trees by the hand.

"Really?"

"Aye, well where I live there's a woods behind my house. I go there to think a lot too."

Trudy stopped walking, a soft smile, one of knowing, was on her lips.
"What do you think about?"

Ozma glanced at Trudy before fixing the floor with her most intense look.
"You want the whole story?"

"Of course I do."

The encouraging, celestial smile on Trudy Nott's face made this harder than it needed to be.
"Alright then. I used to escape to the woods when I was younger, before Hogwarts. My family were the only black people for miles. Small towns in north Scotland don't tend to be so diverse. It was only natural people would say things to me, to my family." Recounting the story had come easier than she'd expected. The words seemed to tumble out her mouth like she'd rehearsed them.
"I remember spending hours there, wondering why it had to be me."

Trudy reached over and took Ozma's hand, as if to say she may never understand, but she would be there to listen anyway. It was nice, she was nice.

"I met my first ever friend in those woods. Her name was Blair– such a typical Scottish name but she suited it. I remember her skipping over to me, not caring I was the outcast, not caring that I'd obviously been crying. She skipped over to me, her hair the colour of raven's feathers, all curly and messy, and she held out her hand for me to shake. 'I'm Blair Cosgrove,' she said, 'if you're finished crying I was wondering if you wanted to play hide and seek.' And that was it. I fell in love, but she was my best friend ever since."

The wind picked up just then, not a gale, but enough to feel in your hair and around your bones. They welcomed it.

"We called each other our own names. I called her Bee and she called me Oz. We were the only people allowed to call each other those names, and it felt like something so secret and special. I loved her more than I think I realised, the way I held onto those stupid names." A bitter laugh nearly escaped Ozma's lips but she daren't let it.
"But I went off to Hogwarts. I told her it was some boarding school I was being sent to, so I could get away from the shit people in our village talked. I sent letters, but we wouldn't talk as much, and when I got home for the holidays we would spent less and less time together. But I was still hopelessly I love. I think it was when I was in fourth year that I came out to her, just after the MPP started up. I remember she hugged me, and said she didn't care. I knew she wouldn't, she didn't care I was the only black girl, so she wouldn't care I was the only gay one. But a few days later, she asked me if anyone at school knew, and I told her yes. That was when she shut down. By that point we barely talked, but that was the final nail in the coffin. She was gone. It was only last Christmas that I found out the real reason she stopped talking to me. I saw her kissing one of the other girls I went to primary school with but didn't recognise." This time the bitter laugh did come, it escaped from somewhere deep in her throat, something red and bitter, a lemon yellow.
"Turns out she wasn't homophobic at all, she was jealous that the school knew I was a lesbian and didn't care. It's funny thinking about it, she must be the only person jealous of a black, gay woman. I never sought Blair out again after that. But she was always the one that got away for me. She was the girl that everything began with, but it ended before then."

Ozma expected silence from Trudy, or maybe she expected advice, something else. Instead she got one word:
"Rowan."

"What?"

"Rowan. That was the girl's name. I saw the two of them the first time I came to visit you. I asked if they knew where you lived and they pointed me in the right direction. But the girl was called Rowan, dark brown hair, pale green eyes, millions of freckles. I remember thinking she was named after the tree she resembled."

Ozma could only stare for a second. The world stopped when a name was placed on the girl she had spent so long hating, bitterly hating, for taking away her first ever love.
"Rowan," she repeated, rolling the consonants over her tongue.

"Ozma?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you telling me this? Why did you bring me out here?"

By the look in her milky brown eyes, Ozma could tell that she already knew...
"Because Blair is the girl that got away for me. And she's got Rowan now, that ship sailed without me. But Trudy, you've still got your chance. I know Aliona is the one that got away for you. It's always been Aliona, and please don't argue with me because I've made my peace with it. She's the only girl you've ever loved, and it may be too late for me, but you might still have a chance."
A lone tear fell down Trudy's cheek, Ozma reached over and brushed it away with her thumb.
"So I guess I brought you here to let you go. And to let you know that it's okay. I know I would give anything to go back in time and tell Blair everything about the way I felt, not to let her slip away from me; and who am I to deny you that chance?"

"Ozma—"

"—I'm letting you go. Please don't make it harder. Let go, Trudy. And in years to come, please look back to now and be thankful you got this chance, because not many people get it. Don't waste it."

Red light invaded the gaps in the leaves, leaking warm colours like bloodshed. It was Armageddon, doomsday, perhaps the apocalypse. But it was fitting that it was though the world was ending the day she let Trudy go.

They stepped out the forest, side by side but not hand in hand. It felt like the end.

♣ ♣ ♣

(7th April 1978 continued)

The sun rose and the red lingered a while. Esme-Leigh mourned its loss. She would miss the Scottish sunrise, the highlands rolling before her everyday when she woke up.

That day was a slow one, less dangerous that it had seemed at sunrise, but further from ordinary.
The common room was busy, but Remus was easy to spot. He was sitting with a mug of tea and a book.

Remus had always been a creature that Esme could understand. They had a relationship that not many could see inside, but it was obvious they functioned on the same level, and drew comfort from each other, so if anyone were to know about Beauxbatons first, it had to be him.

Like a million times before, Esme approached with a cautious smile and Remus cast a levitation charm on his tea so she could climb onto the chair with him. Almost like a cat, Esme-Leigh folded herself comfortably into his lap. She'd done it since they were third year, it wasn't peculiar then and somehow still wasn't now. Remus patted her back gently and retrieved his tea.

"You alright, Pet?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Remus hummed, leaning back into the armchair, melting into the cushions.
"Depends."

"On what?"

"Tell me the secret and I'll tell you what it depends on."

Esme giggled, "that makes no sense, amour."

"Doesn't it?"

"Why don't you just promise you won't tell?"

Remus smiled, "that I can do."

Esme-Leigh took a deep breath, the world might change in a sentence but if not now, then when?
"I'm moving to France."

Something in his eyes changed, she watched it. The honey widened and contortions shifted to accommodate his surprise. It was clear he did not believe her.
"What?"

"I'm leaving Hogwarts. Transferring to Beauxbatons."

"Esme—"

"I'm serious."

It was difficult to watch Remus Lupin grasp for words, because he was usually so eloquent, he usually had every answer known to man. Remus always had the right thing to say. Nothing surprised this boy, and yet here he was; stunned beyond words and it made Esme want to cry.

"You're leaving."

Tears welled in her eyes but she nodded, blinking them away. Crying wouldn't solve anything, lest of all herself and her decision. It was the right one, no doubt about that, but that didn't mean it couldn't hurt, or feel like giving up.

Remus' eyes dilated back to their usual molten gold as he opened his arms out to her, "C'mere. I'm sorry, Esme, I really am."

"It's okay," she whispered, already folded under his arm and breathing in the comfort of his smell– bitter chocolate and old books.

"Am I the first person you've told?"

She nodded into his chest and Remus sighed, his hand still drawing comforting patterns on her back, and trailing into the ends of her hair.

"You've got to tell other people, you can't just disappear."

"I know, amour, but it's scary."

"They're you're friends. It shouldn't be scary."

"I know."

There were tear stains on Remus' jumper but he didn't seem to mind, not even when Sirius walked though the door and saw them together, tears and wide eyes.

"What's happened?" He asked, his own grey eyes melting at the sight of them.

Remus gave Esme a reassuring look, pulling away slightly and grateful that his boyfriend had been mature enough not to make a jibe about the way Esme was curled in the chair with him.

He nodded at her, encouraging. Esme-Leigh had never been more grateful for another human in her entire life.
"Esme has something to tell you."

Sirius sat down, reading the expression on his friend's face and she took his hand in hers. Remus was right. There came a point where she had to face up to her decision. Even if it meant crying and the overwhelming feeling of giving up. Seven years seemed to feel like a waste of time...

♣ ♣ ♣

(9th April 1978)

Over the next few days, Esme had told Trudy, Aliona, and Peter. Somehow telling James and Marlene felt different somehow. Like there was a brick wall holding her from it, tall as menacing.

James wasn't there when Esme knocked on the Head Dorm's portrait so it was Marlene that answered, she supposed it might have been for the best– to say goodbye individually.

"Mar?"

"Hey, love! You staying the night here?"

It was getting dark, curfew had probably already gone without her realising it. Slowly, Esme nodded.
"Please."

"Get in here," Marlene grinned, taking her best friend's hand and dragging her into the common room.

Marlene had this way of making anyone feel at ease, regardless of who they were or what they had to say. From a distance, Marlene was intimidating. Tall, beautiful, sharp as a whip, and smarter than most; all red painted lipstick and manicured hands. Yet up close it was easy to forget that people found her so unapproachable, or even worship-able. Marlene had a talent for smiling just the right way, or cracking a joke that would make anyone double over in laughter.

It was this easiness that Esme-Leigh had banked on her whole life, the ease that she hoped would serve her now.

"Marlene?"

They were sitting under the covers of Marlene's four poster bed in her Head Girl room. Moonlight was navy blue, inky. No stars were out that night, instead obscured by clouds.

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember when you first started talking to me?"

Marlene grinned, leaning back in the bed, her arms tucked behind her head.
"I was so bored. Mary didn't really talk to us much, and Trudy and Aliona were already becoming best friends, so I started talking to you. I'm pretty sure I made fun of your accent."

Esme cackled with laughter, "you did. I was honestly so offended. But I remember you were so funny, and I tried to teach you some French."

"And I tried to teach you Latin, even though it's not a spoken language."

"Ad astra per aspera."

"To the stars through difficulties."

Esme-Leigh nodded, "that's what you taught me."

"What?"

"Marlene I need to tell you something and you need to promise not to talk until the end."

Slowly, Marlene nodded, shifting in the bed until she was lying on her side, facing Esme and wearing a look on her face of the deepest concern.
"Go on."

"I was going to tell you sooner but I could never find the right time. I told Remus, and then Sirius, Peter, Aliona and Trudy but I couldn't find the courage to tell you..." sucking in a deep breath, Esme-Leigh faced her fear, the unknown that was eating her up inside.
"Im moving to France, and I'm not coming back. My mum told me to make a decision and I've come to realise that I need to move on, there's nothing left for me here, no matter how hard I try to create one."

In the silence Esme came to understand how one can fear it. There is an unknown in silence that curls round everything in it's wake.

"James." Marlene whispered eventually, nothing else.

"That's why I asked James on a date, I wanted him to give me a reason to stay. But he didn't and I can't. Im leaving, Marls, and I think it's long overdue. Nobody really needs me anymore."

It took Marlene a long time to reply. The quiet was not uncomfortable, but slightly static with the unspoken reply.
"You're sure?"

"I think so."

"This is what you want? Really?"

"For longer than I realised."

Another pause, Marlene's face melted into a look of controlled pain. Her beauty was different that way, she could make nearly everything beautiful.
"Then go. I can't stop you even if I want to."

Somehow this was not what Esme-Leigh been expecting. A tear of gratitude rolled down her cheek.
"Really?"

"You deserve to be happy, and if moving on makes you happy then be selfish. I love you, Esme, that won't change if you were on the other side of the world."

Without a reply, Esme-Leigh launched herself into her best friend's arms, feeling safer than she ever has. The stars around them twinkled, the same way the would anywhere else.

♣ ♣ ♣

(10th April 1978)

It was inevitable that James would have to know. But being so close to him, his hazel eyes burning a hole of concern into hers. It made breaking her own heart a lot more difficult than she expected it to be, because Esme knew it might not just be her own heart that broke this time.

His eyes hurt to look at, like an eclipse. But Esme-Leigh forced herself to look directly into his eyes, because she knew that there would come a time, too soon, where she could never look into them again.

"You're starting to scare me. I feel like the only one that doesn't know what's happening," James said quietly, reaching forward and taking her hand, showing that he could sense her unease, her sadness.

They sat together in the room of requirement, the MPP couches were still set up and they both were perched on top of one, facing each other.
There has always been something unforgiving about James Potter's stare. You could see everything in his eyes, and they were so close.

Focusing on his hand wrapped around hers, Esme-Leigh let her glamours fall away to reveal her true self, the way she was born. Veela-blonde hair fell to her shoulders which she used to hide her tears, and the blotchy skin that was forming underneath.

It was from there that she began to tell James everything. And by the time her first tear had hit the floor, she was finished. She told him about the letter from her mother; and the search for a reason; and the regret with which she was giving up her search.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her tears choking her slightly.

Immediately James rushed forward to take both her hands firmly in his. He rested his forehead on hers and locked their eyes. Without any alterations, Esme-Leigh had brown eyes the colour of chestnuts and melted chocolate.
"Don't be sorry, Ez. I don't want you ever to be sorry. Just... don't forget me when you go off and have a million people fall in love with you."

She tried to laugh, but it was clear she didn't really mean it, and when she pulled back ever so slightly it was easy to place a gentle kiss on his lips. He tasted the same as he had the first time she'd kissed him, like mint and coffee, and something deep green– not envy, something rather prettier, but sadder than blue.

"I thought we agreed..." James trailed off but did not pull away. Instead he reached up to stroke the side of her face.

"We did. I just thought that a hug might be a little bit... inconclusive for us. Maybe we weren't right for each other but it wouldn't have done what I feel about you justice."

At that James broke a small smile, his lips twisted in a broken version of his usual coquettish grin, but his eyes were still solemn.
"I'm sorry the way things turned out, how fucked up they managed to get."

She shrugged, melting slightly into the world around her. It was easy to forget that Esme-Leigh was not just beautiful, but human as well. Perhaps it was more apparent to James how human she really was when she wore no glamours. She was her most beautiful in her rawest form, but also the most flawed. Her blonde hair was cropped at various angles and her freckles outlined a small bump in her nose.
Perhaps when Esme looked like this, it was easy to see her in her surroundings as she did not transcend them.

"I guess there just isn't anything left here for me to do. Marlene has Dorcas; Remus has Sirius; Peter seems happy by himself; and you, James, you never really belonged to anyone until her."

Something in the room buzzed as comprehension washed over him, over the sincerity in Esme's voice, and the truth laid bare.

"I don't—"

"Please don't lie to me James. I've seen it. You and her."

If one could cut the air, it might taste like regret.
"I know," he whispered as if it might have been such a great secret he was worried someone might overhear.
"I suppose that I thought if I suppressed it, distracted myself with you, then it might go away, but it doesn't work like that does it? I'm sorry, I feel like I've used you."

"Not at all. I've done the same thing." Esme-Leigh's eyes were watery, which gave them the guise of melted chocolate.
"I saw how you and Lily were and still I asked to date you, still I kissed you. I suppose I tried to convince myself that if I fell in love with you that I'd have something to stay for, but if you try to force love then you've already lost. You were built for someone else, and I just wanted you to hold me back. It's change James, change destroys a lot of people. Me included. But sometimes it's better just to take the leap and suffer later."

His hand was still on the side of her face as she spoke, and James used it to tilt her chin up to look at him.
"I'm sorry, Ez. Things, they... they got fucked up. If I could have done it differently then maybe I would but..." he trailed away again, the end of his sentence ran away with the seconds.
"You'll write, won't you?" He said eventually.

Esme shook her head and both their hearts shattered a bit.
"Maybe a little, but I think it's best I stop clinging to things that were never really mine in the first place."

"Okay."

His eyes were glittering with tears, and Esme could appreciate just how beautiful they were, because perhaps she would never look into them again.
"I love you, you know James? Not in the way I wished I could but I do. In a different way."

"I know, and I love you too."

She leaned forward and connected their foreheads together. Blinking tears into her cheeks where they ran and connected to his. They shared breath and tears until they slowed.

"Despite it being inconsequential," James murmured once the world stopped spinning, "I think I'd like that hug anyway. Preferably one that lasts forever."

"I'll do my best."
And with that she melted into his arms, wishing it really could last forever...

♣ ♣ ♣

(11th April 1978)

Esme-Leigh Bisset stood with her trunk levitated behind her. The gates to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry seemed rather innocuous when walking through them and into the darkness outside.

She's left in the night, without the power to say goodbye. The dorm room had been quiet, filled only with the quiet snores of the people she loved most in the world. She left nothing behind beside from her Gryffindor scarf, which she left where Mary would find it, hopefully she might take it as an apology.

Mary was in the bed closest to the bathroom but she did not wake when Esme collected her things, she was glad. Saying goodbye to Mary was the only thing Esme was not strong enough to do.

She lay there, the curtains to her four poster pushed back to reveal her face, covered in freckles that looked like shrapnel and eyelashes long enough to graze her cheekbones. Mary MacDonald was beautiful, but Esme-Leigh would never have the strength to tell her.

Instead she stood above the bed where she slept and knelt down to wrap a lock of her golden brown hair around her finger. This would be her goodbye. Mary would not remember in the morning, but Esme would, and that would have to be enough for her...

Wind whipped her hair around her shoulders as she left. Her hair was metallic blue, eyes a lilac purple. She hadn't looked this way since she'd kissed James in winter, but somehow it felt like taking back the power that searching for a reason had stolen from her. She may not have found a reason to stay, but maybe there was more power in going, in taking whatever strength she had left and putting it elsewhere.

As she left, Esme-Leigh thought of Mary, and the message she'd left on her MPP badge.

I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Please forgive me, and hopefully forget me.
Esme-Leigh x

With one final look back, Esme-Leigh Bisset disappeared with a small pop, leaving behind a hole in Hogwarts that nothing and no-one would fill. She hoped to any known god that she could be the way she had wished, that she could float out of her friends lives and one day it wouldn't hurt anymore. One day they might forget it ever hurt in the first place...

Bit of a sad chapter, sorry it took me so long to update, I've been on holiday and before that I was in the biggest slump in the universe so that's why the writing isn't my best.

Anyways, I know this is a little short and not my usual standard but hopefully I'm out my funk now! Not long left now!

Love you all,

Abbi♥️