𝗷𝗮𝗻𝗲, harry potter

˗ˋ 111

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN
✧
-: fifth year :-

── IN WHICH JANE CALMS DOWN

. . .

Anger prickled in her gut like guilt, the growing unease and dying power that came from an argument proved forefront as she made her way up the stairs. Each step pushing into the old carpet seemed to have less and less force, and by the time she was out of the sight of the entrance hall, her legs felt a little weak and she didn't want to climb the rest of the way to her room. 

Jane lingered on the landing, eyes flicking from the clenched knuckles and the brocade wallpaper. Down the hallway adjoining, the door to Harry and Ron's room was pulled to a close. It seemed pointless, really, for her to fight for Harry's cause so strongly and then feel nervous to speak to him. 

For the first time, Jane was entirely unaware of what he was feeling, unable to gauge whether he believed what Mad-Eye and Tonks had guessed but either way she knew that he was fucking terrified. She had seen it in his eyes when he glanced her way after she found out, every time she caught his eye but couldn't say anything because she didn't know how to comfort him with something like this. 

Decidedly, she turned on her heel and made her way down the hallway. Carefully, she pushed down on the handle and opened the door, watching as it swung open silently and she looked in.

Harry hadn't heard her. That was evident. He was bent over his open Hogwarts trunk, a stack of school books to his right, clothes spilling out of one side, knick-knacks piled high on his bed ready to be tucked into socks and amongst clothes for protection in transit.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

He jumped, shoulders tensing as he turned away back to his trunk. He didn't give her an answer.

"Running away." Came a reply. But it wasn't from Harry - no - it was far too haughty and taunting of a voice for that. Her eyes slid over to the portrait on the wall. The man in it tipped his silver-green hat towards her. "It's noble, so I hear Dumbledore told him not to, though. But orders are not for the noble, though, no -"

"Why are you running away?" Jane ignored the portrait and it's almost condescending tone. "You can't run away - that's a stupid thing to do."

"More stupid than staying here and putting more people in danger?" Harry blinked, shaking his head. "Staying here would be the stupid thing to do. There's too many people here that can be hurt by... by whatever the hell is happening to me." 

"Nobody is going to get hurt, Harry." He looked her again, when she said his name. "You're not being... you're not being possessed. And you're not running away, okay? That's was stupider than even thinking that you're being possessed."

Silence hung between them. Harry stopped packing, a folded jumper sagging and creasing in his hands. He put it down, not in the case. "I just want to stay in here." He said finally. "Alone."

"Okay." Jane swallowed; she liked to pretend that didn't hurt as much as it did. She nodded. "Okay," she repeated, then turned around and closed the door behind her and left him alone.

She tried to sit in her room, busy herself with a book or working on some coursework for school. But nothing could distract her from wanting to go down and talk to him, to figure everything out, and she had stabbed herself too many timmes with her needle to just stay there. Eventually she slipped back out of the door and ventured upstairs, hellbent on staying away from everyones attempts to stay cheerful in face of what had happened and what had found out.