Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
—
short chapter, oh well
—
AUGUST 11th, 1997
"'...and don't drive Draco and Blaise too crazy while I'm gone. I can't exactly stop them when they want to throw hexes at you,'" Pansy read out loud, the confusion quite permeable in her voice. "'My closet is your closet, but if you get a stain on any of my cashmere, I will curse you into the next lifetime. Love you, Panz, and see you soon."
She sets the letter down on the coffee table and looks up at Blaise and I with a blank expression. None of us say anything. Blaise has his eyes covered with his hand, the other hand rubbing the back of his neck. I just sit in my armchair unmoving. It feels impossible to move, in fact, like my muscles have hardened to stone.
"Mine was similar," Blaise offers hesitantly after several long, silent moments. He gestures at the letter on his lap — three pages long, much like Pansy's — before picking it up. "'Dear Blaise, I know it doesn't make any sense, but I am leaving and won't be able to have any contact with anyone. It won't be long, just until the end of the summer. I could explain why now, but I would rather wait until I can see all of you again...' She goes on like that for a while."
The silence resumes.
I close my eyes and tilt my head back to rest on the chair. It's pounding, and I don't know whether it's sleep-deprived nights or just an echo of how fast my heart is beating.
"What about yours, D?" Pansy asks. Her voice is muffled by the blood rushing to my ears.
I open my mouth, but it's so dry that nothing comes out. I swallow thickly before I speak.
"I didn't get one."
There are ten heartbeats of silence before either of them speak again.
"That can't be," Blaise says lowly, though he sounds a little strained. "She does... care about you."
There's a bit of disgust in his voice, and the fact that he's likely thinking about walking in on Celeste and I all those nights ago is almost enough for me to smile in humor. Almost.
"Clearly not that much."
I stand up without warning, clearly startling both of them. I can vaguely hear Pansy calling my name out and Blaise urging me to turn back around, but I ignore it as I stride out of the parlor room and towards my own, barely seeing or hearing anything around me. It feels as though I'm caught in a whirlwind of some kind, batting me about this way and that. I can't even feel my legs as they move, I only know they are leading me on autopilot.
It seems as though I've only blinked and I'm already in my room, slamming the door shut behind me. On my bed lays a single piece of parchment, and I nearly crumple it from how quickly I pick it up.
