<font face="american classic" size=1 color=darkpink>.:: Home is where <b>my</b> heart is ::. -- Gatherplace

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Date Posted: 17:20:02 06/04/02 Tue
Author: Claire Rieera
Subject: .:: Home is where my heart is ::.

color=darkpink> Dark, dapple optics peered around the Gatherplace, or at least that is what Claire thought it was called. How it didn't do the Great Hall justice, oh, let her count the ways. How she missed the ceiling enchanted to mirror the galaxy above, the very thought nearly made tears well up in her tawny-shaded eyes. Besides a cataract of tears had cascaded down the damp cheeks all night long, dreaming of her family she would never see again, the British aristocratic lifestyle she wouldn't know for many more years, and...for the place she was in now. Oh, sure the accomadations of Virlastyn had been nice...but how she missed the cold but somehow at the same time warm atmosphere of Slytherin. Ah...Slytherin. The good times. It was definatley where her heart was, always and forever.

She ran her pale, delicate digits through her layered, russet hair, attached to the same pale hand, attached to same pale arm...only she wasn't the same. Only her corpse remained. A corpse of what use to be the vibrant, beautiful, and witty girl of Slytherin. Her soul...her heart, they were all back in Hogwarts. Only her body was present and accounted for. She couldn't even forge a smile, and she was gluttonous for lack of food...but she couldn't put a thing in her mouth. The atmosphere was most certainly grisly. It got to the point where she would scream out people's name's in the middle of night, and wake up crying. Claire was catching the worst of it, everyone from Britain that had been brought here was.

She had almost laughed last night, though. In her dorm, on her bed, she had almost laugh. It was because she thought she would even miss the wicked henchmen Filch and his infallible duty to catch students out of bed. Of course, she choked on it as soon as it was about to arise, because everytime Claire is almost happy...the evil is shown to her again. She pictures her parents over and over, being prodded, not being left alone...and then being buried. On Rierra land, out by the manor, she promised herself to one day return.

She condemned to live, after all Voldemort obviously knew that there were things so much worse than death. She was lamenting for dead, visibly, and she just seemed so frail and delicate as if she mgiht break, like glass. In her eyes were murky clouds of suffering, and she held back the myriad of tears that would follow best she could, she pictured those who did live and their suffering, their oppresion. What peril they must all be in!

And then, even though she was doing her best to purge her mind of the dark, bitter despair she now knew, a throng of tears fell down the pale cheeks in torrents. A silent, but bitter and hard sob. Claire just stood there, looking around, crying, trying to imagine Hogwarts again. Impossible. This place wasn't Hogwarts, this wasn't where her heart was, or where she belonged.

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