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Scratch your name upon my lips by princessrapunzel
Chapter 15 : XV.
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 9


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Sometimes, the last thing you want comes in first,
Sometimes, the first thing you want never comes,
And I know, the waiting is all you can do, sometimes...


           “Why are you pushing pills on me, Madame?”

           “Don’t be such a prima donna. You aren’t all that special, little girl.” She snapped, with her small eyes twitching irritably as she once again pushed the ‘medicine’ towards me.

           The woman might have been pretty once, but she wasn’t any more. There was more lipstick on her teeth than there was on her mouth, and her hair looked as though she had been fighting with it and not combed it since the year two thousand.

           “You’re not supposed to say that, I’ll have you know. You are meant to be a kindly employee, with only my happiness and health in mind. You’re meant to be smiling and cheerful – and not forcing someone to take drugs. Drugs are bad, you know.” I was being a smarmy little git, but I didn’t care.

           I had fallen asleep minutes after choosing to comfort my mother, and had not opened my eyes for at least eighteen hours. And worst of all, I woke to the sight of Dennis’s temporary assistant, Helena, who was just plain awful – and not to mention, trying to make me take even more drugs that would make me fight to keep my eyes open.

           “Stop being argumentative, it’s listed here as a necessity for your ‘happiness and health’.” Helena rolled her small eyes, making the wrinkles that she hopelessly tried to cover up with make-up even more pronounced. “Do you not want to get better or something? Don’t you want to go home?”

           Home.

           What was that exactly? The comfortable two-story house my mother and I had lived in for just under a decade? The pretty little house on a pretty little street in pretty little Somerset?

           No, that was not my home. Not really.

           Hogwarts, as much as I had come to loathe it in the past two years, was the only true place that I could rightfully call ‘home’. Albus Potter’s arms were not ‘home’, just as much as a pub wasn’t either.

           “I said I didn’t want to. If you make me take them, I’ll scream.”

           “Oh for goodness sake!” Helena snapped, colourfully swearing to herself. “Fine. Do as you please, see if I care! But your Healer will be hearing about this!

           I wanted to laugh and tell her, sourly, that Dennis wouldn’t mind. He was off somewhere else, with some other patient, and most likely thinking about the woman who now slept beside my bed. I wouldn’t be surprised if she too were thinking about him, although in her dreams, I would imagine their dilemma would either seem so much better, or so much worse.

           I could not help but shift my glance to my mother at that moment. A ghost of a smile played at the corners of my lips as I drank in her, just as she was. She was curled up as comfortably as she could on the chair, which was still hardly fit for sleeping on regardless of the enlargement spell she had put on it, and slept with her head lolling on her shoulder. 

           I wanted to reach across to tuck her long curtain of blonde hair behind her ear, so that I could see her face, but I didn’t. I could have blamed it upon my aching body, but I didn’t. I was well aware of my own cowardice by that point.

           I smiled as I closed my eyes. For a moment, I was almost happy. I should have known that it would not last for very long.

           It rarely did.

           “You’re late, Delacour.” He snapped, sounding almost angry for a change, as I flung myself down onto the chair opposite him.

           “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” I gushed, pressing a hand dramatically to my chest as I fought to catch my breath. “I just had to fucking run here from the lake. We were doing some bullshit project down there and I swear I almost drowned.”

           “Don’t lie. I saw you having a cigarette outside of the green houses. I can even smell it on your clothes from here.” He was glowering at me judgementally. It annoyed me. “Besides, I’m in your Herbology class and we don’t even have it today! We don’t have any classes – it’s Saturday.”

           “You're in my class?” I asked, distracted.

           “Yes. I have been since third year.” He sighed, sounding more frustrated and tired than annoyed.

            “Oh well, I’ll make sure to talk to you next lesson.” I replied, smirking slightly. “What are we doing today, Scamander?”

           “I’m really not in the mood. I – I’m sorry if I snapped at you. I’m tired. I’ve had a long day.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, and sighed heavily once again.

           “Oh, alright then.” I quietly mumbled, caught by surprise. He was usually so eager. “You don’t actually look all that good. Dead pale. Why don’t you go see the nurse or something? I can just – well, I’ll just read a book or something.”

           “I’m fine. I’m just – I’m just tired, alright?” He snapped wearily. His eyes were closed, and his jaw clenched. I didn’t know what to do, so I made to leave. As I stood up, grabbing my things awkwardly, he reached across the table to lightly touch my wrist. “No. Don’t go. Don’t leave just yet.”

           I didn’t know what to do. He had never touched me before, and so I stared down at the place where his fingers touched my skin in bewilderment. I couldn’t describe the peculiar feeling because it was exactly that – peculiar.

           Yet, it was somewhat pleasant. It was as though a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders.

           And that was all because he had touched me? I suppressed a shudder and wretched my hand far away from his.

           “Do you want to go for a walk with me? I think that some air will do me good. It’s awfully stuffy in here.” He smiled abruptly, making it impossible for me to say no. I noticed that when he smiled like that, the corners of his eyes crinkled. It was endearing. No one had ever looked at me like that before.

           “I can’t believe you say ‘awfully’. You’re like Rose.” I muttered, regretting it instantly. At the casual mentioning of Rose, my best friend up until six months ago, I felt suddenly ill - like I was going to be sick. “But sure, I’ll come.”

           “Great.” He was grinning as though it really was that - as though everything was ‘great’.

           “Yeah... great.” I murmured in response, involuntarily despondent.

           I sighed. I did not know why, or how, she had managed to do it – but Helena, the sly thing, had managed to slip me the drugs somehow and already I could feel it coming for me. Sleep, the past and most of all – him.

           “I really hate winter.”

           “I really hate hangovers.”

           “I really hate first years. They are so annoying to tutor. It’s like, for goodness sake, you are eleven bloody years old. You do not need fucking tutoring in your easy-as-hell classes.”

           It was a fun game, in a way. It was a game that he had started the minute that we had left the castle and entered the cold, late-Autumn climate.

           “I really hate... I really hate the way professors demean us. I mean, I know that I am younger than you. But I’m not that young. And the way that they say our names, it’s as though we are always in trouble. Or maybe that’s just me – because I always am.” I laughed, and he laughed too. It made me feel strangely happy to know that I had to ability to do so.

           “I really hate my brother sometimes.”

           “I really hate your girlfriend all the time.”

           “Why? Everyone loves Dominique.” He sounded genuinely confused; it might have been funny if I weren’t dead serious.

           “That’s exactly why.”

           “Are you jealous of her?” Once again, he asked without judgement, sounding only curious.

           “No. There’s nothing to be jealous of. I have everything.” When it had begun, my obsession with appearing normal, being normal – being cold – began, I didn’t know.

           “Do you?” His hand, brushing against mine momentarily, caught me off guard.

            I hadn’t realized that we’d stopped walking, and were now standing at the shore of the lake. I did not notice the lake. I only noticed his fingers as they shifted to wrap around mine. My eyes felt wide as they stared down at hand that he held. It was strange. It did not feel as though it belonged to me. I caught him looking at me when I tried to glance away, but his gaze was steadier than mine and he made it impossible to look away.

           “Of course I don’t.”

           He smiled, but only slightly, and dropped my hand.

           “I hate not being able to understand people - namely you. So I suppose that’s why I am with Dominique. She doesn’t keep things to herself so it’s always easy to know what goes on in her head...”

           I could hear Dominique as though she was standing next to us, declaring her love for him on the train to her siblings and I and the way that she gushed over how she ‘loved him so’. It struck me as odd then that, regardless of all the love she appeared to have for him, he appeared to have little for her.

           “I don’t understand. I’m ‘hard to understand’? Well, obviously, you’ve only known me for a month or two.” I hadn’t meant to come off so sharp, so sarcastic – but it was too much instilled in my mannerisms, it was hard to shake.

           “I’ve been tutoring you for three months, Emmanuelle.” He said wearily, as though he were tired, “And – and Merlin! You have no idea how much of a pain in the ass you can be. All you do is bitch and moan and be exactly that – a bitch. But – I don’t know. I just – I think I’d like to know you. Call me a masochist if you want, but it’s the truth.”

           “Shut up. Don’t be a wanker.”

           “I’m serious, Emmanuelle.”

           He kept saying my name funnily. No one said my said. No one said my name like he did.

           “Why would you want to know me?” I snapped, annoyed over the realization that I actually liked the way that he said my name. I liked the way that it made me feel special and warm and not a ‘no good shit magnet’ like Scorpius said I was. “Who am I to someone like you?” I was being exactly how he described me – a bitch, but that’s exactly what I was.

           “I don’t know.” He frowned, shaking his head ever so slightly, as though the answer he gave wasn’t good enough, wasn’t satisfactory. “It’s just – when you’re not trying to make me hate you, you’re actually not that bad. No – better than that. I actually like you, even though you make it difficult.”

           “And why are you telling me this? Is this going somewhere?”

           “I like you. I guess that’s pretty much the crux to all of this.” He glared at the ground, kicking a pebble into the waters of the lake, and seemed extraordinarily indignant – whether at himself, or me, I did not know. “You’re not going to say something snarky and clever in response?”

           “I’m working on it...” I muttered dryly, unable to help myself. I caught sight of him smirking slightly, and I frowned. “Are you being serious? You’re not taking the piss out of me? This isn’t what Ravenclaws do for a ‘joke’ or something crass like that?”

           “Oh no. We Ravenclaws use intelligence in their jokes. It’s called being ‘witty’, which is an aspect that this conversation is very much without.” Still, even as he made jokes and attempted to copy my sarcasm, he wouldn’t look at me. It was getting on my nerves.

           “Just – stop this.” I exclaimed, grabbing his arm forcefully. I pulled him to face me, and my eyebrows rose in a dramatic show of expectation. “Stop being a twat. What are you trying to tell me? Just say it! Come out with it or – or I will hex you!”

           “Fine. Fine!” He snapped, ripping his arm out of my grip. “I don’t want to be your damn tutor any more!”

           “You don’t – why?” That was unexpected. I stared at him, uncomprehending, whilst at the same time I made a list of who could take his place. There weren’t many. It was a truly pathetic list.

           “Because.”

           “How is that an answer, Scamander?”

           “I can’t be your tutor because it’s too damn distracting. I can’t teach you anything if all I’m thinking about is – is well, you know.” He bit down on his lower lip, looking lost for words, and I rolled my eyes.

           “What do I know?” I snapped, prickly. He wasn’t doing much for the nerves which were already hot with irritation. “Stop being so fucking mysterious – it isn’t working.”

           “You’re too distracting.” He snapped loudly, making me flinch away from him in alarm. “Is that enough for you?”

           “I don’t understand.”

           “You don’t seem to understand anything – except, maybe, the basics of fundamental Transfiguration. You’ve actually – no, - shit! - don’t distract me!”

           “I never said anything!” I exclaimed hotly in response. The way that he had smiled about my knowledge of the ‘basics’ angered me just as much as his yelling did. He was making me head swim, and I didn’t like it.

           “We should stop shouting at each other – people are looking.” He muttered quietly, yet there it was. The tension still lingered in his eyes, in his clenched jaw and between his brows.

           “Fine.” I snapped, and grabbed his hand. I bit my lip and forced myself not to dwell upon the pleasant feeling that once again surged through me.  I pulled him, regardless of his attempt to escape, until we were hidden from view behind a large tree. “Are you happy now?”

           “No. I’m not. I’ve got to go. I can’t talk to you any more.”

           “’Talk’? That’s what you call this? It’s more like you making no sense and –”

           “- And you not giving me a chance to say it!”

           “So say it!”

           “No.”

           “Fuck you.” I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t. But my hand flew against my own accord the minute the two words fell from my lips, dripping with acid, and my nails racked across his cheek as I slapped him. He gasped more out of surprise, than pain, and glared at me with a new found anger within his bright gray eyes.

           My hand, as it dropped, was snatched by his in a manner that was almost rough.

           He drew it to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to my knuckles.

           His lips were cold.

           “I can’t be alone with you and have you expecting me to teach you about how to make a Drought of Death or how to turn a mouse into a tea cosy. I – I can’t. Besides, I – I have Dominique. It wouldn’t be fair to her.” He stammered, awkwardly professing his feelings to me in a manner that was more shocking than it would have been if he had done it like people do in novels and in plays.

           He didn’t yell it for all the world to hear. This was real. And he still held my hand in his clutches.

           “You fancy me?” I was being thick, but I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of it. If he had said he wanted to sleep with me, or kiss me, then I’d have understood. He’d have been like the rest of the male population.

           “Yes.” He murmured in response. His eyes - the striking blizzard of grey - were full of such sadness, that I found my lips trembling. His sadness was coveting me, making me feel it too. He was making me question my own thoughts, and I found myself asking if I returned his feelings – as though I were capable of such things.

           “I – I don’t know what to say to you. You’re supposed to be madly in love with my cousin.”

           “I know. I know...” He sighed, looking down at my hand – the hand which he still held close to his perfect rosy lips.

           “You should go.”

           “I know – but I don’t want to.”

           “Well, I do.”

           It took him one single beat to react. It took only one single beat for me to learn how to regret. His face transformed three fold – first, it crumpled in sadness, and then shifted to a flicker of anger and then all of a sudden, it was all gone. A mask of control and indifference took the place of the two extremes I had just witnessed.

           “Wait.” I whispered, despite him not having moved a single inch away, and pulled my hand out of his. I used it to touch his face, to touch his clenched jaw, and his lips when he smiled slightly. I closed the space between us and lifted my face to his.

           I pressed my lips to the corner of his lips and I heard him sigh. “Thank you for saying that you care. It’s a first.” I chuckled weakly, smiling as though I had just been punched in the ribs.

            “You’re sweet – and – and I like you too.” His eyes brightened noticeably, but I couldn’t allow for him to be hopeful. “But – no. This cannot happen. I don’t love my cousin, but she loves you – and I don’t want to ruin that. I’ve already done enough destroying to last a lifetime.”

           I smiled one last weak smile for him as I drew away. He did not speak, not even as I turned and walked away.

           Desperate hands shook me aggressively out of my slumber, and as I opened my tired eyes, I saw my mother’s face looming above mine. Her face was one of concern, and I slowly came to the realization that I must have been sobbing – or talking – in my sleep. A habit that occurred only when I was most distressed.

           All throughout my childhood I had cried, talked and walked around the house in my sleep. Yearning for the father I could not know, and desperate for the mother who refused to let me in to her heart. I had been a child, wanting a family, and I had been miserable. Each night was restless and plagued until the day, by chance; I met a young redheaded girl who, at the time, went by the name of Princess Rosie Weasley.

           I squeezed my eyes closed momentarily, blocking out all images of Rose, and sighed heavily.

           “I keep dreaming about him.” I whispered, for once in my life being truthful with the woman who was my mother- the woman who I was meant to love unconditionally and never lie to. “I’ve been trying to block him out. But I can’t.”

           “I don’t understand.” My mother whispered, the tips of her fingers gingerly touching my cheek. “Why now? You’ve been fine for past last year – why now do you think of that boy?”

           It surprised me that she knew who I was talking about. That she knew that I was not talking about Albus Potter.

           “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”

           “You love Albus Potter. Do not let the boy of your past destroy that. Don’t be like me.” She urged, and a small, wistful smiled played upon her lips. It astonished me.

           “Dennis – my Healer – he’s my father, isn’t he?” I didn’t know where the question had come from, or how it had fallen from my lips, only that it had and there was no going back from it.

           “Yes.” There was no pretending, no arguing. Only the truth. “Dennis is your father.”

           I smiled hesitantly, and as though I were seeing into her head like Lily Potter, I saw what she was seeing. I could see her at my age, youthful and just as beautiful but as radiant as the sun, and in love with the man who had brought me back from the dead - and not as much as blinked an eye at his heroics.

           He had a face that made me forgive my mother for loving him like she did.

           “Okay.”

           She looked up at me in bewilderment, surely expressing that she had not expected that reaction from me. I didn’t blame her. The last time she had told me the truth about my father I had left her crying and pretty much thrown everything back in her face with such hatred I was shocked she could still look me in the eye.

           “Do you still love him?”

           She hesitated, but only for a second.

           “Of course I do.” She stated simply, looking at me as though I had asked her if she needed oxygen to breathe, or water to live. “I don’t know anyone who has ever stopped loving someone.”

           “So you’re saying that it’s impossible – to stop loving someone, I mean?” I was fearful of her response. I shouldn’t have asked a question I did not want to know the answer to, but there had been no stopping myself. It was inevitable.

           “I never say that. I just don’t know anyone who has.”

           She touched the side of my head and gently started to brush her fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes, revelling in her familiar touch. She had always done that, hadn’t she? Whenever I cried, she would brush my hair, kiss my forehead and tell me stories of a prettier world, where princes existed and love was undoubtable.

           “Is it possible to love two people at the same time?”

           There is no doubt about it. That’s what I wanted her to say. That’s what I needed to hear.

           “Perhaps. But I do not think as equally. I think that one will always be loved more than the other.” Her fingers twisted through my long hair as her lips pursed thoughtfully. She had never been like this. Never. I never asked anything of her, and she had always accepted that. I found out my own answers.

           What had become of me?

           “I don’t want to be here any more.” I whispered. Where ‘here’ was, I didn’t know. Did I not want to be in the hospital, or not the state of mind that I was dwelling in?

           “I know.” She murmured, and suddenly she had shut off. She was back to being the shadow mother. The remote, distant person I could not reach. She moved way from me, and her hand fell from my hair. She smiled slightly, and turned away. “But you must.”


 


 

           It was a long shot, granted, but it was a necessary action.

           Sure, my tutor had basically told me that he had feelings for me, and could no longer help me to pass my O.W.Ls – but yet, there I was. Sitting in the library, at our table, at our time of day.

           Our sessions always started at one - always.

           No one was ever in the library at that time on a Saturday and Sunday, they were all off in Hogsmeade, sleeping or having something to eat. He always snuck food in his book bag for us to eat, knowing that coming to our sessions was the first thing I did in the day.

           He knew me well enough to know that I crawled out of bed and went straight to him. Hungry, and senseless, that was what I always was.

           Perhaps I did like him. It wasn’t entirely unthinkable, right?

           I propped my feet up onto the wooden table, uncaring about the uptight librarian would eventually notice me, and looked down to my short, bitten fingernails. My people hated the habit, but I didn’t care enough to stop.

           “I didn’t think you’d come.”

           I glanced beside me in astonishment and there, miraculously, he stood eyeing me cautiously.

           “Likewise.”

           I watched as he sat down in his customary seat opposite me, and noted that he did not look well. Not well at all. There were dark, purple-ish shadows under his eyes that almost resembled bruises and he was pale. Scarily pale.

           For a brief moment, I was overcome with the sudden urge to reach across and brush the shaggy blonde waves off of his face. I wanted to look at him properly. I wanted to know that he was alright. I didn’t know why, but I did. Desperately so.

           Our eyes met for the most fleeting beat, and I frowned as he looked away. He had picked up a quill and was hurriedly scribbling something down onto a piece of parchment. It irritated me to know that something other than me was on his mind.

           It was selfish, I knew that, but that was who I was and it wasn’t going to stop. Not for some silly Ravenclaw.

           I could do better than a Ravenclaw. Even if he was most devastatingly good looking when he wasn’t frowning – well, even then – and even though he made me feel warm when he smiled that bright, brilliant smile of his.

           He pushed the piece of parchment towards me, refusing to meet my gaze, and I took it from him, making sure I was careful not to touch his hand as I did so.

            I’m sorry about what I said. But I’m not going to take it back. Not now, not ever.

           I looked up at him in surprise, and stared, for the first time that day, into the depths of his grey eyes. He held my gaze steadily, whilst I struggled to remain calm.

           “I –” I began to say, but he shook his head and silenced me. I reached across the table and wordlessly stole his quill.

           You can be a real prat, you do know that right? But... that ain’t what I – fuck it. I liked what you said. It was nice. People don’t say that sort of stuff to me – ever. But this can’t happen. You do know that, yeah? It’s like I said. You are supposed to love someone else, someone who loves you and someone who is related to me by blood. Just... teach me Potions, and otherwise, don’t ever speak to me.

           After I pushed the piece of parchment back to him, he said nothing. He only nodded his head once, and then looked away from me sharply.


 


 

           He didn’t say anything as I approached the table. He didn’t utter a single word as I sat down.

           His silence was like a poison. It choked me, and I found myself unable to break it.

           “Did you bring your Magical Draughts and Potions book, like I told you to?” He inquired flatly.

           “Yes.” I whispered, my voice shaking slightly.

           “Open to Chapter Seven. We’ll do some of that for half an hour, then move onto -”

           “Won’t you even look at me, Scamander? Do you really despise me that much? Don’t you understand why I did it – why we can’t-?”

           His grey eyes were fixed on the table and his brows drawn tightly together, it made me feel a pang of regret. A single lock of curly hair fell between his eyes and, forgetting everything that had just occurred; I reached across the width of the table and gingerly pushed his hair off of his forehead. He looked up at me, startled, with eyes widened in alarm.

           “I – I’m sorry.” I stammered, flushing under the intensity of his gaze. “I – I didn’t mean -”

           “Em –”

           “There you are, babes! I’ve been looking for you for ages!” A shrill voice exclaimed, and I sank back in disappointment. A voice so annoying, it could only belong to one person. My eyes shifted to my left and saw, without surprise, Dominique standing there watching us.

           She was grinning brightly, like the Cheshire cat of Muggle fiction, and seemed overjoyed to see us both – but I knew her better than that. I saw, unlike her boyfriend, the venom in her eyes and the tense way she stood with her arms folded across her chest.

           “Em!” She called out happily, looking at me with wide, albeit angry eyes. Ordinarily, she would have rushed forward and kissed me on the cheeks enthusiastically, but now she didn’t. She had seen what I had done. She knew something was amiss in her perfect little make-believe world. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

           “I’m her tutor, Dom. Of course she’d be here.” He muttered dryly, his eyes finally shifting away from my face to his girlfriend’s. Her smile widened at his gaze and she hurried forwards with a girlish little exclamation of ‘oh!’

           Grabbing him by the face vehemently, she bent down and kissed him fervently. His eyes had closed in surprise, but I saw, even through her mane of blonde hair, that hers were open and glaring at me challengingly.

           It was only for a moment, however, and I watched as her eyelids slid shut as she climbed onto his lap. She giggled against his mouth whilst I repressed the desire to vomit. Everywhere.

           Her hands twisted in the blonde hair that I longed to touch again, and I noted that the hands that had touched me so affectionately by the lake did not so much as inch towards her.

           “Dom – Dom – I’m meant to be – I’m her – stop – fuck! Stop it!” Roughly, he pushed her away by the shoulders and saw the visible anger on his face. His eyes shifted to mine, full of tension, and then returned they returned to her. “Listen, I’m sorry but you can’t be here. I’m meant to be teaching Emmanuelle and without me – well, she has no hope on her Potions theory O.W.L. No offence, Em – but you know it’s true.”

           Her eyes were full of abhorrence as she looked at me over her shoulder. I supposed that I was meant to be fearful, and so I looked at her apologetically whilst within me I felt smug, and as gloating as she always was.

           “Of course, babes!” She gushed as she swivelled back to him. He grinned sheepishly as she ran her fingers through his hair. “You’re so sweet. I love that you are so sweet and help my cousin even though she’s totally useless.” She giggled girlishly, and lowered her smug, mocking mouth to his for a slow, however brief, kiss.

           After she climbed off of him, and scampered away, I closed my eyes. Lowering my head to folded arms upon the desk, I released the breath I had not known that I had been holding in. I was not aware that he had moved until I felt his hand upon my shoulder.

           “Emmanuelle, listen – I’m sorry. I didn’t know she’d come. I didn’t even know she knew I’d be here. You shouldn’t have seen that.” His face was awfully close to mine, I couldn’t help but notice.  Close enough to kiss.

           I lifted my head off of my arms and pressed my lips together.

           “Do you love her?” I whispered. The question fell from my lips before I could stop it, and it hung in the air for an unpleasantly elongate moment.

           “I care about her.” Was his response. And it wasn’t good enough.

           “That’s not what I asked. Do you love her?” I said it slowly, deliberately. I needed to hear him say the words; otherwise I would never know how bad a person I was.

           “I don’t know.” His hand had not moved from my shoulder, and he crouched close to me. I felt the warmth radiating off of his body, and it made me shiver.

           “When you find out – you find me. Until then – I’m sorry, but we can’t do this.” I whispered sadly, my eyes unable to meet his. I did not touch him as I had the last time; I merely drew away and picked up my books. “It’s not right.”

           As I walked away, I caught a glimpse of gold that made me pause.

           Hidden, behind one of the shelves was Dominique.

           She had never left.

           And now she knew. Everything.

           Her cold eyes shifted to mine with such ice in them, it was as though I were looking in the mirror. There was nothing sunny, or bright, or comical about that Dominique. That Dominique I was afraid of.


 


 

Wow, this chapter has taken a while to write – I’m sorry about that. It’s just – I wasn’t sure what to write, whether it should be Albus-centric or about her and Dennis – but I think that this works? I love flashbacks, so I am pretty sure the next chapter, as well, will be full of them. Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you’ve got the time, I really love hearing feedback from you guys.

 Lyrics: Strange & beautiful – Aqualung.

Allie x.

Oh, and by the way - did anyone get the Skins reference? :)


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