Disclaimer: Song belongs to Tori Amos, Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, and er, nothing belongs to me! The M rating isn't for lemons, it's for not very nice themes. I wouldn't recommend my Daddy or my Grandparents read this, you probably won't like it :(

Lily stands in his room, naked before him, her eyes dark with what he assumes is lust. She knows it's fear and hate, because her heart is breaking with every boy that uses her this way. And they never stop, or so it seems to her. And they never think to talk to her, bar the sleazy chatting up before hand. These boys, they don't want her smile, or her charm. They want her sex. The boy on the bed in front of her, with those harsh hazel eyes (weren't they supposed to be warm and light?) raking over her body, taking her design in with greed. Really she's disgusted. She knows that last night, another girl was in here, and he just wants a repeat performance. She knows how to deliver for him. She's had enough practise, she just wants to feel something other than miserable with these disgraces, who want a kinky shag with the pretty, easy Potter girl. She's a fiery little red head, who every one bets is a demon in bed.

They can't see how she's using them. Using them to drown that feeling of purposelessness she gets when she looks at herself. She barely knows why she's doing this. Demeaning herself to get away from that haunting voice in the back of her head, telling her that she may as well give up on these games. But she is hoping that the little love affair (Eight years of love, hardly a one night stand.) that she keeps tripping over, will go away. But love isn't forever. Not for Lily, so why would it last for Teddy and his fairytale princess?

She used to put it down to moods and changes. The weather, she supposes. Her emotional weather. Dark, rainy, lusty weather, that was what she used to blame it on. Well it must be rainy season. She always hated rain. Her cousin Rose loves it, some crap about feeling safe inside whilst it was horror film weather outside. Lily just knows it means that it would be just as shit outside as in, especially for her.

The night is undecided, when she glances out of the window.

Without meaning to she sees herself, dolled up in whatever freak show stuff he wanted. She has love bites all over her, these boys don't seem to mind that she's second, third, fourth, fifth, however many hand. Animals. But then again, she's not much better. Oh, she didn't want this to happen. She didn't ever think it would be her out there, being the slut she is. She's supposed to be up on her pedestal, Princess Potter, virgin 'til she's forty three, or married, whichever comes later. And quite honestly, messed up little circus act she is, she wouldn't mind that at all. Any thing's better than the catastrophe she's got herself into.

But she has to remember, love isn't forever. Someone has to feel pointless at some time. Right now, it's her, but when the love story of Teddy and Victoire has run it's course, Victoire will be the slaggy whore, and Lily will be a princess again.

But it's such a long way, a long, long road to her happily ever after. And her path is dark and scary, filled with nasty specimens like the one on the bed in front of her. And those glorious little distractions when she can actually pretend that she loves them. She tries on this one. She tries to find care in his cold features and derogatory smirk. If she could find a flicker of love in him, the endless night would lose all sense of fear. But why should she? Why should she

pretend that he loves her, when he can't hold what she holds dear.

Behind her reflection she sees the purplish sky, bruised with clouds just waiting to unload themselves onto the world. Huh, well maybe it could be the weather. Whatever it is keeping her here, it's not very strong. She can barely remember why she's there.

She can almost see herself as she all but mowed down Dominique in a haze of tears, all those months ago when her master plan had only just begun. She had wanted advice from the not so angelic sister of Victoire. She'd been no real help, just stood their with bitter laughter in her eyes, dragging lungfuls of dangerous smoke from that nice, big, fat cigar she seemed to be tempting her with. She'd just told her she was alone, hell, Lily had always known that! She'd told her as she shook with self doubt and self pity, that unless she jumped far into her little scheme, she'd end up falling, just like her world. And right now, all too aware of her reflection, she isn't sure she's jumped far enough at all.

She knows she can't blame it on the weather any more, well, that had been such a feeble excuse to begin with. And she still isn't sure what she's doing, because there must be a much less messy, a much less scary, way of going about this. She might find it one day, but as love isn't forever, she may as well just be handed her leather and be done with it. This method may not be the nicest, but self hate is faster than self pity. So with every fibre of her dirtied being screaming for her to stop, she starts.

A/N: Please do tell me if this makes no sense, I wrote this over several late nights, spread about a week apart, and I don't entirely understand myself...regardless of whether you understood or not, I hope you enjoyed it and will listen to the song (which my parents introduced me to :)) Leather, by Tori Amos.