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chapter forty-nine. ( the feeling that i'm losing her forever )
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TENSION SUFFOCATED HER, CLAWING at her neck and restricting her throat, and squeezing her insides so tight she was convinced she would explode on the spot, in the midst of the Weasley's land. Her heart was thumping in an unrhythmic pattern, and the words were on the very edge of her tongue, ready awaiting for her to grow the courage that was deep within and merely speak.
Dumbledore had left them, Apparating away, rather dramatically, she had to admit, leaving the two of them in the brooms shed, the confines in which they were so, painfully, close to one another, neither one of them making the first move to leave. Ascella stood there, like a fool, twiddling her thumbs as though she were waiting for something, before Harry had scoffed and shook his head, pushing past her, as if she weren't even there.
She blinked harshly, unexpected at his abrupt coldness towards her, and, reluctantly, followed the raven-haired wizard out, the summer winds oddly cold, biting at her bare arms and legs. Goosebumps erupted across the plane of her flesh, and she frowned at his figure ahead of her, the rigidity in his shoulders evident, a sign of his frustration with her, for reasons she wasn't quite sure about.
"Will you not even look at me?" she called out, brave, yet the urge to ask could not be resisted no longer. He came to a halt, his hands balling into fists at the sound of her voice, and pained her how much anguish she caused him. "I haven't seen you in how long, and you can't even meet my eyes."
He turned, jaw clenched, and took a few, small steps towards her, the shadows cutting across his features diminishing, and his expression became clearer. He was . . . furious, perhaps, fire blazing in the emerald of his eyes, and, for a splitting second, Ascella didn't know who he was. He'd never looked at her that way, never with such ferocity, appearing as if he'd could kill her if she pushed too hard.
