𝐵𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 | 𝒟.𝑀.

12 | ﴾ A Timeless Void ﴿

I was awake by 6am on Friday. My neck was burning as usual, and I was beginning to normalize the horrible sensation. It seemed to be pulsing more and more as the days passed by and I had to keep gritting my teeth every day. Now that I knew however, I woke up to acknowledge it with a dead feeling inside. It was as though responding defensively to it before made more sense because I'd had hopes that it would fade or be curable. Now, I was stuck with it and my fate felt sealed. I stared at the glossy green canopy like a zombie.

The night before was rough. I had cried for a few hours, shoving Hilda's questions away until she had eventually left me to be. Then the rage had begun spreading in my heart and tunneling through my veins.

How could he allow us to get together knowing what he knew? He had barely tried to warn me. He WANTED this didn't he? How could he be such a coward and run away for the whole entire week knowing I would be there with the back of my skull burning? Did he think he could avoid me forever? What if he didn't want me and that was why he had left? What if he didn't even remember the night? Did his family know? Was I being called a whore? What was going to happen to Astoria?

The torment had grown into an unspeakable ball of anger, writhing in my being and keeping me awake until at least 1am. Now I was there awake at 6am - five meager hours later, and I was going to suffer in classes and in the Quidditch game from exhaustion. I decided not to fight it anymore and shoved my silky green sheets off.

I made my way to the lavatory in a long turquoise lace dress and took a deep breath. I had brought an ornate, gold hand mirror from my great grandmother and slowly lifted my left hand holding the mirror and turned around. I aligned the mirror in front of my face and shifted my blond hair aside.

There it was: a highly intricate shield with black and green colors blossoming across my neck. The large silver 'M' in the center almost appeared to be raised off of my skin. It wavered with animation as if in the wind, and I covered it with my hair quickly.  I took a deep breath and sighed heavily, pursing my lips, willing myself not to panic or cry. What was done was done.

I slept through much of my Transfiguration class, earning Slytherin a deduction of ten house points. I didn't even flinch as my house mates glared at me on the way out. The nap had invigorated my deteriorated body. Fawley had sent me a sympathetic glance when McGonagall decided to scold me publicly.

I dressed for Quidditch, quickly repairing the outfit to an appropriate standard since Hilda had worn it. I stared at myself in the ornate mirror dreading the reaction of my team mates when they realized I wasn't going to put my hair up. I had considered a few options to conceal the mark. I had tried glamour charms, a low pony-tail, even muggle makeup. It seemed to have a mind of it's own as it burned right through the glamour charms and makeup, the pony-tail only proved to be useless due to uncontrollable shifting of the hair.

On the way down to the icy pitch I sighed against the harsh wind and with anticipation of the dreadful interaction with the boys. Would Malfoy show up? He was the only seeker AND the team captain after all. When a seeker didn't show up it meant that someone inexperienced would have to sub in and we were likely doomed from the get go.

A few younger years pushed past me as they ran down to the pitch early. I glared at them with evil eyes but the boys just stuck their tongues out at me and continued on.

When I reached the bottom and joined my team they grew suspiciously quiet upon my arrival. A few of them stared at the ground and some of them just stared at me. Nobody questioned that several feet of my long hair was blowing around my shoulders. I cringed and bent to tighten my boots in the eerie silence. Warrington cleared his throat loudly. Everyone turned to look.