The Sun, Moon & Stars

43. Tension

'I trusted you.' Harry fumed, breathing ragged.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything but nothing came out. His eyes said everything that he didn't say out loud; they were tinged with sadness, betrayal and anger. She stared hopelessly into the emerald abyss, hoping he might see something in hers—hoping that he might see just how sorry she was, just how broken she was that he didn't trust her anymore.

He didn't, or maybe he chose to not see it—either way, the anger didn't fade off his face and the sadness didn't leave his glossy green eyes as he stood, waiting for her to explain herself. To say something, to say anything.

Suddenly everything felt insignificant. All the rules, and the constant murmurs of 'Dumbledore's orders' seemed to mean be unimportant; and she wished she had just told him before. She wished she had broken the rule and she wished she didn't force Hermione to secrecy and just listened to her. All the fear and worry she had held everyday seemed to mean nothing at all now, because clearly him finding out this way was worse.

If she had to chose how to tell him, this wouldn't have been it. She would have talked to him alone, in private. Maybe she would have made him hot chocolate, his favourite, and raided the kitchens for treacle tarts as a peace offering. She would have taken her time, she would have explained everything in extreme detail and she would have begged him to believe her; to believe that she never intended to hurt him.

But he didn't find out with hot chocolate and sweets in the comfort of the common room, or the chilly corridors. He didn't find out when they were alone, when he could ask questions or fully digest it. He found out by the mouth of another, a mouth that didn't belong to her and begging him to believe her wouldn't work now; not since it would now seem as if she was only pleading because he found out.

It felt like the world was ending, crashing down on her and that she might just crumble to the ground any second. Funnily enough, she had never felt this way before. Even when Voldemort was in the castle, or when people all around her were being petrified last year; this feeling didn't even compare in the slightest. This was different. Dying didn't come close to how this felt, this felt horrible. And it wasn't even the guilt or the disappointment that made it so torturous, though that was a factor. It was because she would rather die than live a life without Harry Potter in it, and she very well may have lost him forever today.

She must been zoned out for a while, because when she snapped back to reality Harry wasn't standing in front of her anymore; he was sitting on a snow-covered rock as Ron sat next to him and tried to understand; being the only one uninformed now. Her insides twisted as she thought about how Ron would soon hate her. Hermione on the other hand stood in the middle, glancing back and forth from Harry to Ophelia; as if choosing who to comfort.

And she chose him.

She walked over to Harry, sat down next to him and began to murmur things Ophelia couldn't make out.

Ophelia let out a choked sob, before she turned on her heels and ran away. It wasn't easy with the thick layer of snow, but she went as fast as her feet would take her. Nobody called after her, not even Hermione and she knew she deserved that; she really did, but a part of her was hoping one of them might.

She managed to get back inside the castle without running into any teachers; which seemed an awful lot like some sheer stroke of luck that the universe was giving her as a peace offering for the rest of the crap it had loaded on her today.

She went straight to the portrait hole. The Fat Lady was not pleased with her inability to remember the password; but in her defence her mind was overwhelmed and cloudy and she couldn't for the life of her remember. But the Fat Lady was kind for once, recognized her, saw the tears that streamed down her face and with a sympathetic glance she would have usually hated, she granted her permission into their common room.