Sinner // Sebastian Sallow

FIFTEEN

Your head, once again, is running in overdrive, woken up from yet another nightmare-induced sleep. Across from your bed, your fragmented reflection stares back at you from a broken mirror. You cringe; of course, it had to be the mirror again.

One swift movement of your wand and the mirror repairs itself, bringing your broken reflection into its full detail. Forehead lined with sweat, you watch yourself with a hint of fear behind your eye, pupils blown wide and chest heaving. 

You hate what you see; you're a dark wizard with no room for fear or uncertainty in your mind. Nightmares should mean nothing to you, just a fragment of your imagination with no real meaning behind it. You can tell yourself that all you want, but it doesn't take away from the absolute terror that wrecks your soul every night.

Something clatters to the ground by the door, and you jump straight out of your skin. You aren't expecting any visitors this late at night, and you hesitantly turn your head towards the sound.

Poppy Sweeting stands in the door frame, a silver dish laying at her feet and hands still outstretched. Her mouth hangs open just as your stomach falls to your feet.

Shit.

One flick of the wand and you remove your silencing charm. Poppy doesn't seem to notice too much, focused entirely on tensing her body as you throw your bed covers back frantically and lean forward, "What did you see?"

She open and closes her mouth like a fish, dumbly looking between you and the mirror. You find yourself repeating the question, to which she flinches as your voice raises towards the end.

"You...you broke the mirror," she utters, voice soft and small in the empty room. "You were asleep...you—you had this strange aura around you like—like dark and heavy and—"

"—Okay," you cut her off by raising your hand, staring at your lap as you do so. Your fingertips buzz with energy and, when you lower your hands to your legs, send shock waves from your skin to the soft fabric of your clothes. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

"What's going on with you?" Poppy swallows a lump in her throat as she talks, taking one tentative step forward. "Something isn't right."

You keep your jaw shut firmly, grinding your back teeth against each other. Poppy has a right to know, you reason, but it's her knowing that could get you either expelled from Hogwarts or thrown into Azkaban.

You can't bear to imagine the look across her face right now, so you choose not to look her way. When you answer truthfully, you don't even dare breathe, "Something isn't right. I'm trying to figure it out...please don't tell anyone for Merlin's sake. I don't think I could take it."

"But you're in pain!" she exasperates, taking a few more steps forward in haste. "You're screaming, you're using magic in your sleep I mean—"

"—I am begging you, Poppy," you cut her off once more, snapping your head around. For once, you let her in; showing her all the fear and uncertainty you carry as a burden in your eyes. She needs to understand. She must — otherwise your life is about to come crashing down. "Please...don't tell anyone."

Lips pursed, Poppy regards you with an emotion you can't quite place. Concern? Distaste? It doesn't make any sense.

It still isn't clarified when she quietly repeats the same question, "What's going on with you?"

Eyeing her cautiously, you relay your terms, "You can't tell anyone."

"And I won't."

"How can I be sure?"

Poppy sighs heavily, like you're incompetent, "Because friends trust each other."

"You were so sure you were going to tell someone a minute ago." you point out, smearing the moisture from your forehead onto the back of your hand. "What changed?"