mirrorball

chapter nineteen

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Mimbulus Mimbbletonia!" said Harry. The portrait swung open, revealing a party that was in full swing. After an hour of searching, Clara and Harry had not found the boy who had taken their picture. They had followed him around the halls using every tracking charm and hex they could think of. The slimy serpent had slithered its way out of their reach, and so they had decided to just go to the party. Harry assured Clara that he would find the kid eventually and make sure the picture was erased.

Music echoed in Clara's eardrums. Shouts and laughter were racing through the students and the room smelt heavily like fire whiskey, vomit, and sugar. Clara made her way straight to the alcohol, her nerves still looking for anything to calm them. She picked up a shot of fire whiskey and handed it to Harry. She then took one for herself and tilted the glass to her lips. A sleek object in the hands of one of the students caused Clara to stop. The glass flew down to her side and she tugged on Harry's sleeve. He wiped his lips with his hand, apparently he had not paused before his drink, and looked to where Clara was pointing.

His entire body went stiff. His arm ripped itself from Clara's small grasp and he walked toward the student. Clara's eyes darted around the room. A matching object was in the hands of many of the party attendants. She followed behind Harry as he approached the first student they had seen. Within seconds the object was in Harry's hands. He flipped it over, revealing Clara's worst fear.

The picture of Clara and Harry, entangled in a trance of romance and happiness, was in the hands of Hogwarts. A small tick began in Clara's heart. Slowly, it grew louder and louder, the sound of her blood pounded in her ears. Without a warning, Ron was guiding her out of the room as her fist clenched tightly around the shot glass that was still full.

"Everybody hand it over." said Harry, as Clara was being weaved through the crowd. Nobody moved. Nobody offered up the only evidence of Clara and Harry's relationship. "NOW!"

Feet began to shuffle towards Harry, and Clara and Ron had made their way out of the Common Room. Anger swelled inside of Clara's brain, tickling every corner of her mind. Clara's hand moved faster than her head. She hurled the shot glass at the stairs.

The shattering glass left a quiet echo in the hallway. The broken pieces lay on the stairs as Clara turned her back on them. Her fists met the wall and she began to attempt destruction. It was the only way she knew how to deal with the terrible frustration that coursed through her veins. With each hit to the wall, Clara's anger grew stronger and bigger. Curses flew from her mouth. Words that Clara had never imagined saying were spewing from her lips like daggers.

Her fists were suddenly stopped by another force much stronger than her own anger: Ron Weasley's kindness. Without having to ask, without even saying anything, Ron peeled Clara off of the wall and into his arms. At first Clara resisted, wiggling and writhing to escape his arms. Her urge to punch someone was higher than it's ever been and she felt as though a gunshot passed straight through her heart. Ron just squeezed tighter. 

"Clara, that wall didn't do anything bad to you. Let it be." 

Her resistance stopped, and Clara could feel herself sink into Ron's arm. She truly felt as though she was being squished by a life-size teddy bear. "I can't believe this is happening. Everything was going so well."

"Do you really think-" began Ron.

"Well, well, well," sneered a taunting voice from behind Ron and Clara. Ron's arms dropped as he turned to face the intruder. Draco stood before the two friends, a smug look on his face. "Slumming the sheets with some more Gryffindor scum, are you, Clara?"