The Founders

Chapter 31

"You," she ground out, lifting her wand, hand shaking. "Did you do this? Was it you?"

He said nothing, only shook his head, eyes devastated.

"Was it you, was it fucking you?" she shouted. Panic, anger pounded inside her, and she reached for her wand. Seeing a crystal ball on display beside her, she scrabbled for it instead; she hurled it at the wall beside his head, and he ducked as it hit the wall with an almighty crash. It shattered into uneven chunks of glass, which ricocheted back at both of them, and Alexander instinctively raised his hands to cover his head. When he lowered them, they were covered in jagged cuts starting to bloom blood. He looked back up at her warily, still motionless.

She stared at him incredulously when he said nothing.

"Say something," she bit out, her voice starting to shake, taking a step towards him. His silence was somehow infuriating, as though he, like the glass-walled, incomprehensible scheme happening around her, refused to crack. If only she could get him to talk, maybe everything else would start to make sense, too.

Alexander said nothing, just stood there warily. All her frustration and helplessness at Oscar being hurt, and all the confusion and pain of the last few months welled up inside of her like a wave cresting. She threw herself across the hall at him, shoving him against the wall, punching blindly at whatever part of him that she could reach. After a moment, he grabbed her wrists and pulled them down to her sides, his head bowed. Their chests now pressed against each other, faces close, she could feel his intake of breath.

She tried to tug free of his grip. "My best friend just got tortured and you still won't tell me anything. What is wrong with you?" Her voice was a whisper.

He squeezed his eyes shut and slowly dropped his forehead to hers. "I'm sorry."

Suddenly exhausted, she sagged against him. Her voice sounded weak even to herself. "What the hell is the going on?"

He raised his head, his hair falling into his eyes as he released her wrists, thoughtlessly curling his fingers around her waist. For a moment, she let him, resting her forehead on his chest.

She pushed away just as the hospital wing doors opened and Madame Pomphrey strode out, wand raised. Grace was a step behind. "What is going on here?" the nurse asked sternly, lowering her wand and surveying the scene. Glass shards were scattered across the floor and glinted in both of their hair. Alexander was pressed against the wall across from Kyra, who was now flat-backed on the opposite wall. Tear tracks dried on her cheeks, and they were both breathing heavily.

"Nothing," Alexander muttered, recovering himself first. "I accidently pushed over the crystal ball."

Madame Pomphrey didn't believe him for a second, but she paused for a moment and then nodded briskly. "You'd both better come in for a moment so that I can fix those cuts of yours."

Kyra looked down at her arms for the first time and was surprised to see scarlet ribbons of blood threading down her forearms and onto her knuckles. Little rivulets on the map of her skin. Her fingertips were stained with Alexander's blood.

Alexander glanced over at her for a moment, hesitated. "It's fine, I know how to fix them."

Before Madame Pomphrey could object, he turned and quickly strode down the hallway. Kyra didn't look up to watch him go. Keeping her gaze lowered, she avoided Grace's worried look and followed the nurse back into the hospital wing.