Closed I'm the problem, it's me PV

From the moment Lucia Fox had woken up an hour and a half late, it had been a bad day. Even after skidding into class breakfast-less, with no makeup on and odd socks, just getting in the room in time to scrape by without a detention, things hadn't cheered up. A mix of teenage hormones and terrible luck had managed to transform a fairly ordinary morning into the sort of nightmare most people would laugh about until they came true. Potion spillages, a last-minute attempt at an essay that used up every scrap of parchment Lucia had left, a terrible score on a test... you name it, every mundane horror had shown itself today to the tired and grumpy Hufflepuff known as Lucia Fox. As the day had progressed, her temper had grown shorter and more pronounced until she could barely walk through a doorway without snapping at someone or bursting into tears. It was just one of those days.

But, thank Merlin, the day was almost over. Classes had been let out maybe fifteen minutes ago and the corridors were only sparsely populated with students, since most people were heading to their dorms to get out of their school uniforms. Lucia, however, had needed to visit the library so was one of the few still wandering around the school. She'd left her satchel in a classroom so was stuck carrying a pile of books with her inkpot balanced on top - she'd found it in her pocket for some reason and didn't want it to leak if it fell over so this was the best she could do.

There were only two other people in the corridor: a Gryffindor who looked vaguely recognisable (from pureblood events, maybe) and a younger girl with the palest hair Lucia had ever seen outside of fairytale illustrations. Sadly, the girl's presence was the only thing here that reminded Lucia of a fairytale: outside, the unforgiving clouds were hurling fat droplets of rain towards the ground and the sky had already begun to darken. Lucia stared despondently out of the windows as she continued down the corridor, watching the drops slam into panes of glass before trickling down out of sight. This was why she hated winter. It was cold, and dark, and wet, and-

An obstacle was in Lucia's path: the older girl, whom Lucia walked headfirst into, distracted by the rain and the wind outside. Her books tumbled out of her arms, hitting the floor with a bang, and time seemed to slow down as the little bottle of black ink slipped off the pile and flew towards the Gryffindor, smashing when it hit a surface and scattering glass everywhere. If she had been carrying anything, it was now unsalvageable but for the cleaning charm - and if she hadn't, the ink would soak into her clothes like the leftovers of a snowball. "For Merlin's sake," Lucia sniped. "Watch where you're going, idiot." Anybody with eyes could see that Lucia was at fault here, but somehow the words came out of the Hufflepuff's mouth anyway. She didn't feel very Hufflepuff in that moment, that was for sure. She had just become responsible for the ruin of whatever the ink had touched, but all Lucia Fox, in all her temperamental part-Veela glory, could think was: If I can't have a good day, neither can anyone else.