After All This Time PV JUNIPER KELLY ONGOING DNI Reopened Locked

It was no secret that June didn't want to be here, nor did she belong here. She looked mixed up, all sickly yet her hair was groomed and her clothes without a single wrinkle. See, her uncle could force her to be more cleanly dressed but he couldnt force her to take care of herself. It was her way of fighting back. Her skin was blotchy and pale, dark circles under her eyes and dry lips. Her nails were all bitten, her eyes red from the lack of sleep. She was a mess. She hated everything about this school, and had done her best to avoid certain people.

This particular morning, she had stayed laying in her bed as long as possible, staring at the dead phone that didn't work as if she was willing it to turn on. She had kept it so she could keep a part of the life she liked best with her. Eventually, students came in and out of the dorm actively as the day went on and June knew she had to pull herself out of her bed. All of her things were packed tightly and neatly, it was a contrast to her rushed and messy packing methods back at home.

She walked in the halls, giving everyone a side eye. The laughing couple in the corner, ew. The giggling first years? Ugh. Everything and everyone was on her nerves, and she couldn't shake the anxious feeling that she was being judged. She slouched her shoulders and kept her head down, sliding into the study room to avoid the awful crowds. She turned around, keeping her head down, and scanned for an open seat. She sat in the nearest one and slouched down in her seat as if she wanted to shrink and disappear.

After a few minutes of sulking, she risked a glance around the room and felt her heart drop as she spotted a familiar ebony haired boy. He looked different. This was not the clean and put together boy she once knew. She audibly gasped, elbowed her book which caused it to flip off the table and onto the ground with a loud thud. She quickly dropped to the floor to grab it hit her head on the table with a loud "Fuck!" Her eyes widened. So much for avoiding.

Draven looked up from his work for a moment. He was acutely aware of every single student around him. The hair on the back of his neck had risen as soon as the first person had joined him in the study room, and hadn't laid back down yet. He watched the other kids out of the corner of his eye, occasional shivers and tics rocking his body. Shoulders rolling back as if to dislodge an invisible touch, his eyes flickered from his book toward the source of the noise. Every creak and moan of the classroom was a physical feeling. The noise rammed into his skin.

And the source of the noise- Draven spotted ginger hair from underneath a table, and something in his stomach flipped uncomfortably. Merlin, when were those feelings going to stop. It had been over two years since he'd last seen her.

Swallowing hard, Draven pressed his lips in a tight line and forced his eyes back to the page. It had been a stupid first year crush and nothing more.

He'd idolized her, he knew that. Idolized the ginger hair and the wild laugh, the bruises she'd left on his arms from playful hits, and the sharp way his entire being was aware of her when she was close. He'd built up softness of her hands, and the green of her eyes. He'd made himself a fake idol, born from a year of loneliness and another of feeling incompetent.

The pencil broke. Lead snapped against parchment, leaving a deep mark that Draven knew he wouldn't be able to erase. Merlin.

Setting the pencil down, he leaned back in his seat and pressed his palms against his eyes. The potions helped. Sleeping drafts, draughts of peace, they calmed the scared little bird beating against his ribcage. They did nothing for the emptiness. The acute knowledge that- that-.

Draven breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. One. Two. One two three. One. One. He focused on the way his hoodie clung to his arms, on the press of his feet against the floor. One. Two. T-two. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. As long as he kept counting, he'd be fine. As long as the string of numbers scrolled between his ears and before his eyes, he'd be fine. In through his nose, out through his mouth. Two. Three. One.

He couldn't help it. Couldn't look dignified as he pressed his forehead against the table and covered his ears. There was suddenly too much of everything. Everywhere. Too much light. Too many students. Too many sensations on his body. His breath was too loud. Merlin.

Merlin he was so, so sick. Of being sad.

He had work to do.

Swallowing hard, Draven forced himself to pick up the pencil again. The wood stuck to his skin and made bile rise in his throat. He could feel the dust on the pencil rubbing in the crease of his sweaty palm.

He'd read the texts until he understood them. He'd read them until he'd be able to recite them in his sleep.

She paused for a moment, remaining under the table. She was almost certain that Draven had heard her, almost everyone had. She received several annoyed looks from her peers to which she made a face when they looked her way. Get over yourself. After what felt like forever, she risked a glance in his direction. He was not looking at her, instead he seemed to be pouring over the paper in front of him. He seemed stressed. She could tell he was not himself, or maybe he was and she didn't know him anymore. She felt her heart twist.

Suddenly she began to miss the way he held her, the way he seemed to admire her by the way he looked at her. She missed the way he was always there, no matter what. All of her best memories at Hogwarts.. he was there. She didn't want to be back. But she was. And so was he. She didn't believe in fate, nor did she believe there was any God. But being in the same room as someone she used to hold dearly felt like a slap in the face.

Her eyes flickered to the broken pencil in front of Draven, and she again felt her heart twist. It felt like someone was trying to rip her heart out from the inside. No. No, she was not doing this again. She wasn't planning on being here much longer anyways, she was going to go home. Her hands began to shake softly as they had been doing since she moved in with her uncle. Since she had, she had no access to the substances her old muggle friends used to give her. Perhaps it was for the better, but right now it didn't feel like it.

If you were to ask Juni why she did what she was about to do, she would say it was because she was sober and she couldn't focus nor think right. But the truth was, she was thinking just fine as she slowly
got up and made her way to where he was sitting. Gently, she rested her hand on his, the one that was gripping the pencil like his life depended on it. "draven." She whispered. She didn't know what else to say.

Draven was aware someone was walking toward him. He spotted the slight figure out of the corner of his eye, and quickly focused his attention back to the paper in front of him.

Other students didn't talk to him. They'd learned, by then, that holding a conversation with Draven Mirador was the equivalent of walking on a minefield. No limbs would be lost, mind you. But all the people involved would get really really uncomfortable really really fast.

Which is why, when warm fingers wrapped around his hand, Draven sharp inhale was more surprise than revulsion.

His head snapped up, fingers tightening around his quill to keep from sticking it inside the stranger. The flinch was visible, the pull in his arm, a sudden jerk stifled before it could get out of hand.

And then there she was.

Fiery mane and freckles, porcelain skin and slender limbs, muscle visible just beneath. There she was.

His firecracker, the storm of a person he'd loved and cried over many more times than he cared to admit.

There she was.

Her voice had gotten deeper. The childish roundness had dripped off her face, leaving behind high cheekbones and smooth skin.

It didn't matter. In that moment it didn't matter that he was dressed in rags, that acne covered his face like a bloody constellation. It didn't matter that there was ink on his fingers, that in the time she'd last seen him, every bit of elegance and grace had been stripped away from him layer by layer.

"Juni-" he choked out. His chair fell backward, arms winding around his former girlfriend.

She took in the mess before her. Draven. She almost didn't recognize him, but she did. She knew him. It didn't matter if he was in rags or a suit and tie, she knew him. It didn't matter if his skin was perfect or bloody, she knew him.

She wasn't expecting the hug, but she slowly melted into his arms seconds after he wrapped her into a hug. She couldnt remember the last time someone hugged her. Not like this, anyway. She wrapped her arms around draven, taking everything about him in case she might blink and wake up. She took in his smell, she felt the clothes on his back, the rough fabric. This was new. But she tilted her head up and looked into his eyes, seeing him. This was not new.

"Hi." she managed to say. Slowly, she moved his hands off of her and held them, studying them. "tsk, look at you leaving a mess. It's almost as if we switched places." She spoke quietly. Trying to joke as if anything about this exchange was funny. There was no humor in her voice as the realization set in. Because, in a way, they had switched. Juni stood there in her perfectly tailored robes sent from her uncle, with her new shoes and maincured nails (much to her distaste, mind you). But in front of her, Draven's skin was no longer smooth and perfect. She reached out and ran her fingers through his rugged hair. His clothes were anything but his size.

It felt all wrong.

She forced a smile. "How have you been?"

Draven laughed. It was a soft, breathy sound - half snicker, half wheeze. His whole body had gone numb as he pressed himself against Juni, his forehead finding hers, his arms looping easily around her waist.

"So bad," he admitted, blinking away the tears building up behind his eyes. He'd been a wreck when she left, and he was a wreck now.

Hey. At least he was consistent.

"So. So bad."

Pulling away, he took her in. Really took her in. The neat hair and tailored robes. She didn't look like herself. Her skin was free of bruises, her nails long, oval-shapped instead of hacked off like he'd grown used to seeing them.

It didn't fit.

It was Juniper, but not really.

She was lying in wait underneath this girl's skin, tapping her foot impatiently as she awaited for the moment to burst through once more.

Draven smiled, his fingers finding the ribbon holding her hair in it's perfectly styled shape. And pulled it off. Auburn locks tumbled over Juniper's shoulders, the wild mane making a reappearance. Juniper Kelly. The lion amongst ravens, the flame dancing upon summer winds.

"How have you been?" He asked, as if it wasn't obvious. As if he couldn't tell, from the sheer distaste radiating from his former best friend.

She reached up and wiped a tear trailing down Draven's face, almost absent-mindedly. She already knew the answer to question, but she couldnt help but feel bad when he answered. She wrapped him in a tighter hug again as he repeated himself. They both needed the comfort, that was obvious. As she stood there, hugging him, she realized how much she had missed him.

This was much better than the toxic situationships she had called 'fun' during her time away. This hug itself was better than the ones all her 'friends' gave her before leaving her in a drunken haze at a party by herself.

Her eye's found Draven's once more, feeling the nostalgia hit. as he pulled the ribbon from her hair, she finally let out a smile. She pushed a lock of hair out of her face and shrugged slowly. "I-" She started. "Good."But she stopped and something in her face changed. This was Draven she was talking to, lying to him honestly wasn't an option. Suddenly, her brave strong facade broke apart piece by piece. She looked up at him with a shuddering breath. "No, I haven't been very well either." She rested her head on his chest. "My dad died." She whispered. "Thats- thats why I left. I'm sorry." She buried her face into his sweater. "I'm sorry I never reached out- I didn't want to still be attatched to this school. I wasn't supposed to come back. I wasn't supposed to ever leave. I'm sorry, Draven." The words tumbled out in a blur, a guilty blur.

this is so short and lame I'm sorry :<

Draven's stomach twisted. "My condolences,", he swallowed. His fingers found the nape of Juni's neck, tangling in the hair there-not possessively. To anchor them. That's what he told himself. That's how he squished the tiny voice that urged him to hold on to Juni and never let her go again. but it's not funny at the end of the day now is it, it's serious

"I'm just-" he breathed, his arms relaxing around her. "I'm so glad you're back."

The study room had suddenly become just a little bit brighter. The weight in his lungs a little lighter.

Pulling apart, Draven looked down at his desk. It was filled with books and pens and paper, that he'd been so intently focused on before. None of it mattered now, not really. Not anymore. "Do you wanna find a spot in the library or something? It got a little too crowded here." The stares from the other students were starting to burn holes in the back of his shirt.

Gathering his books in a simple move, Draven placed them into his bag. His quill, inkwell and parchment followed, arranged methodically. "What's with all the..." he paused. "...well it's not your usual style. Not that it's- bad. Just different?