cigarettes & invisible string || golden trio era

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐀

third person pov

' uh oh '

    It was short, the kiss between her and Mattheo. All it took was him sitting up, forcing her to truly see his face. Then she had to go. She muttered an excuse about feeling sick. He was nice enough to let her leave. She made her way back to her dorm with guilt deep inside. It felt as if she had cheated on someone, though she had not. The walk down the steps was not supposed to be as long as she made it, but she moved as slow as humanly possible.

How long had they all been looking for her?

She didn't know.

Inside their shared dorm, Whitman stood with Blaise, having just arrived back to see if she came to the room yet. The latter stood by the door with arms crossed, speaking clearly, "She left here almost three hours ago? Maybe we need to go tell Snape, or just Mcgonagall? Mcgonagall helped us last year."

Whitman shook his head, "No, no—we can't make her feel like she's in trouble."

The sound of the doorknob clicking made them both turn, letting out a breath of pure relief when Rose walked through. She quickly shut the door before looking over at them but not at the same time, her eyes anywhere but their own.

Without a second to waste, Rose crossed the room before either of them could grab her, picking up her pace until she reached the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

She brushed her teeth, over and over again.

Whitman ran a hand through his hair while speaking quietly to Blaise, "Can you go find Theo and Draco? Tell them she's back? Maybe ask the elves for some food?"

Blaise nodded and swiped his jacket off his bed. He headed for the door but paused, muttering, "Just make sure she knows I'm not mad—I don't want her to think I'm mad for running away."

"Yeah," Whitman promised, before Blaise slipped out of the room. After, he headed towards the bathroom and took a deep breath before attempting to open it with no avail.

"Ro," he called, "Can I come in?"

On the other side of the door, Rose rested her back against the wood with guilt nipping at her brain. Not only was the heavy weight of usual remorse from her blow up present, but the fact she had kissed Mattheo. As soon as the moment passed it all felt wrong and discomforting. She wanted to blow up her life, and now it sure felt like she did.

Draco had been her first kiss when they were kids, but being so young it was of course not the crazy real sort. She considered, in her mind of anger towards Draco, Whitman to be the owner of that title. Even after kissing Whitman and the high wore off, it still felt right and safe and like something sacred. It didn't feel like she was an awful person for it.

Now though, she felt nothing short of awful.

Whitman dropped his forehead against the door, "We don't have to talk—I just want to come in and see you." Still, the door didn't open and the only thing he could hear was her ragged breathing on the other side. "Please, Ro. It's me, you don't have to shut me out."

She wiped her face roughly before reaching for the lock—but hesitating. "Whit?"

He swallowed thickly, sounding quiet, "I'm here."

And then Whitman heard the faint sound of the lock being turned, making him lift his forehead up. Rose pushed her hesitation down and stood up, turning the lock and letting Whitman see that familiar pained face staring back at his own version.

"I'm sorry," Rose mumbled, "I don't want to—"

She was cut off by him pulling her in close.

She slowly reached up, wounding her arms around his neck with strain from their height difference.