𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬 [𝖍.𝖌]

nine | on the mend

𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬 — 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐭

Dahlia sprinted for Professor McGonagall's office.

She'd gone and fucked everything up in front of her whole damn class, and worse: she hadn't used her wand. Someone was bound to have seen the absence of her wand and reported it to Professor Lupin.

She'd known that she wouldn't have been able to repel the boggart given her years' worth of evidence that she wasn't gifted in magic like her brother. But for some reason, her magic block had an uncanny talent for spilling out in the most inconvenient times. This time, she had exposed her sine magic for everyone to see. She needed McGonagall's help.

God, why couldn't she keep it together for one second? Why couldn't she just forget about everything that had happened to her so far? She couldn't even keep her friends safe — hell, Ron was Obliviated and no one knew.

She'd been lying to every single person in her life, and it felt like the secrets inside her could tear her up from the inside. If she didn't tell someone, she might explode.

Dahlia turned a corner and headed down a deserted corridor that would take her to the Gryffindor tower, but her world blurred before she could take another left. She blinked to clear her vision — and to her surprise, a tear streaked down her cheek. She wiped it away furiously, but the damage was done. Try as she might hold it in — it wasn't any use.

The red-haired witch ducked into a niche as she sank to the floor and huddled into her herself, hugging her knees. She tipped her head down to muffle any crying because the Lord knew that she'd be in trouble if her peers found her. Kids were ruthless.

She sniffled as she wiped her snot away with her sleeve. It was ironic, she supposed, that after learning about her powers and herself that her worst fear was something that made her feel painfully small and human. She'd forgotten entirely about her mortal human life. Magic took up the majority of the space in her life.

"Lils?" said a small, unsure voice. Dahlia looked up.

Hermione Granger stood in front of her, cautiously approaching the red-haired witch like she was a rabid animal or a bomb waiting to go off. (In a way, she was both.) Ares stirred in her head and curled comfortingly against her spine, and Dahlia was glad for the extra support.

"I — saw you run out of class," said Hermione, her words impossibly soft, like she was trying not to scare the girl on the floor. "Are you okay? What was that thing?"

Dahlia could only gape at her, wayward tears still gathering in her eyes. Silence hung like a blanket between them.

"Dahlia," stuttered Hermione, shuffling her feet. Her cheeks went pink. "Say something. Anything. Please." Her mouth set in a hard line, Dahlia's lips were tight as she glared at the bushy-haired witch.

"I don't like you."

That wasn't even close to the worst thing she had to say, but Hermione closed her eyes, the colour draining from her face like the simple statement hurt her deeply. "I know that — "

"You don't know," spat Dahlia, her voice stronger than she thought it'd be. "You don't know," she repeated, her lip curling. "D'you want to know what I know?"

She stood, pressing her back to the wall, putting distance between her and Hermione.

"I know that what you did is considered assault," she said carefully, her eyes filling with angry tears at the word. "I know that you haven't told anyone, because we'd be social pariahs by now."

Hermione stepped closer. "Dahlia — "

"I know that you have no respect for boundaries and I know that all you want to do is put this behind you, but I think you know that you can't. I won't let you — not unless you earn it." As the words came out, Dahlia's voice quieted from a shout to defeat. She'd said all she needed to say.