Taught them with solace
They know a soft caress
To lower your defense
Hide all that you could
Done for the greater good
It’s later understood
Foray forever
With only two hours of sleep under her belt, Molly Weasley felt like she had slipped between worlds and was travelling through limbo. Of course, she knew what she had signed up for when she had told Bev that she'd attend his mate’s band's underground opening, which just so happened to be in someone's basement in Hogsmeade. It was easy enough to leave campus, if one knew some tricks. She didn't even need the Whomping Willow route anymore. She knew a clear cut path through the forest that backed up to the old memorial garden.
And like that, she was free.
She felt a little guilty. The invitation had never extended beyond her, dying on her lips when Margo said she had plans to study with Johnny, unless Molly knew of anything to do that weekend. It wasn’t often that she didn’t include Margo, who seemed to just be part of the deal, but it was getting easier and easier. Molly felt like a person without Margo around. Maybe just the husk of one but she might as well have been a ghost until the blonde arrived. And at no fault of Margo’s. That had always been their agreement. Molly would allow Margo to follow as long as Margo didn’t shatter the illusion that she actually existed.
Besides, this concert thing wasn't Margo's thing either. More artsy than party. Of course, after the art, there was a party.
And boy, did they party.
Molly was the youngest there by about three years, excepting Bev, but she was never made to feel like the lesser. Bev was good about that, making her feel like more than she was without making her feel aware of herself. She remembered him looking at her as the band argued over their set, leaning forward to grab her knee as she shifted to fall on top of him, their lips locking amid the hollers of his friends.
The rest of the night was a hedonistic swirl, a mix of the biting taste of cheap vodka and the sweet smell of contraband weed, documented only once the majority of the partygoers had passed out, slumped over sofas and tangled up on the floor. Molly, sensing her time to go had come, untangled from Bev's embrace and collected her boots and jacket, pulling on her top which had been abandoned at some point in the night.
As she picked her way through the bodies, she couldn't help it. She put her polaroid to work, capturing the picture of youth wasting itself away with sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Images of tangled limbs, shattered glasses, alcohol seeping into the carpet. Mouths tipped open captured the vignette of beautiful people reduced to a state of infancy, crying babies with smeared makeup and mussed hair and drool and snores...
The sun had not yet risen, but she was unafraid as she picked her way through the dark streets, veering to cross through a garden, over the hedges, and into the forest. She wasn't terrified of the forest as her classmates were. It wasn't a streak of bravery in her that made her walk comfortable, nor was it the spliff that now dangled from her lips. Somehow, Molly Weasley had always been fairly accepting of her mortality. She hardly felt alive as it was, content to be the ghost among the living. Beyond the veil, she could not be touched. She could not feel warmth but it kept out the cold too.
By the time she crossed the treeline onto the grounds of Hogwarts, the sun was beginning to rise above the horizon. She could see a figure headed away from the Quidditch pitch, Jack Dyllan if the rumors were correct. Not quite ready to go into the school, Molly angled for the greenhouses, hoping to gather some spiced mint for her morning tea. She would sure look a sight to anyone who saw her - hair-sprayed hair mussed where Bev's hands had tangled, makeup smeared from the sweat of dancing, clothes careless in their arrangement on her lean body.
Molly took a loooong drag, finishing it as her joints floated away from each other, a tingle in her lips. She slipped into the greenhouses and the sweet smell of the plants enticed her in. She pushed herself up onto one of the worktables and fingered the leaves of one of the giant ferns. The sun was rising, spreading its orange fingers across the frosted panes of the greenhouse, lighting up her face, imbuing it with a life she swore wasn't there.
So this was what it was like to feel alive.