blaire amybeth darlington did not expect to be cheated on, but then again, there was always a first time for everything. 

up until a week prior, she had been ensconced in a charming liaison with her friend, bartemius crouch jr. perhaps she had overestimated barty’s capacity for common decency (considering he had an affair with their friend evan, of all people), or, in some more improbable miscalculation, perhaps she herself had driven him to this debauchery. yet, she doubted it was the latter.

in truth, barty was not renowned for his fidelity—far from it, indeed. blaire questioned why she had thought it was a good idea to start a relationship with him in the first place; dating friends led to disaster disturbingly often. what was more, she had not expected to feel this peeved.

blaire was lucky to have you to ramble to, as you were one of her only friends with competent listening skills; but unbeknownst to her, you possessed the slightest inkling of bias. as irrational as it was, you were inwardly smug that barty had an affair. you were adept at concealing this, or you thought, until ophelia began grinning wolfishly at you whenever she spotted blaire in your company.

“he is such a prat. dare i say, a shite person.” blaire reiterated for what felt like the fifth time that day. you and the ravenclaw had skived off history of magic to converse in the empty astronomy tower, flooded with watery afternoon light.

blaire’s fingers toyed idly with celtic cross around her neck, lips lightly pursed and head leaned against the wall as she scrutinised the black lake in the distance, a tentacle emerging from the depths lazily; not out of the ordinary. a breeze tugged at her, stirring the scent of parchment, earl grey, and a trace of the cherry candles that fashioned her dormitory.

“i cannot fathom that i was crying over him.” she added morosely, as if you had not been present for her cycles of misery. “why couldn’t i have had fanciable friends? no offence to you and ophelia, of course. and lily. and maybe dorcas.”