Forgotten

18 | Apologies

"Bella" Barty was following her. He had been all day, "Please just let me apologise."

"Leave me alone." She couldn't remember how many times she had already told him that. It wasn't working. He was pretty much chasing her. Through every lesson he had passed her notes. He wouldn't let her be and the feeling of being trapped wasn't helping the thoughts she had in her head.

"Bella you don't understand, I didn't mean to hurt you." He was practically begging her.

"Really? Because I understand that you are following me and completely disregarding every boundary that I have put up. Have I not told you to go Barty? What do you not understand about that?" She didn't turn around. Stopping would give him the opportunity to grab her, and she wasn't just going to allow that to happen.

"I'm not doing that. Stop fighting me and just listen for once." She couldn't take it. Every emotion she hadn't been able to feel was bubbling up, overflowing and it was all too much.

"Just fuck off Barty. I don't want to talk to you. I don't even want to see your face. So get out of my fucking site. And stay away. Don't you dare come back." She heard his feet grind to a halt as she continued walking. She didn't stop until she was outside. Walking at first. Her speed picked up as she jogged. By the time she could see the quidditch pitch she was sprinting. Her heart going almost as fast as her steps.

Slouching against the changing room wall, her legs shook. Everything in her was telling her to just get over it and move on. But she couldn't. That tiny part of her that was always so scared wouldn't let her. 'He tried to hurt you' it told her. 'What if next time he succeeds?' nothing would shut up the fucking voice in her head and she was getting tired of it. She wasn't in her room, she couldn't distract herself with physical pain. But she was on the Quidditch pitch for a reason. It always calmed her down.

She took a broom from the cupboard and a quaffle. There wasn't anyone else here, practice didn't start for at least another hour and knowing the slytherin team, most of them would turn up late anyways.

Her legs still shook as she shot up into the air, but after hitting the quaffle repeatedly into the goal and doing far too many laps of the pitch, she finally felt her heart slow. She felt normal again, well, as normal as she could ever be.

She was close to the ground, chasing a quaffle that had bounced off the goal and gone flying in the other direction, when she heard a voice, "This should be our secret meeting place." That voice.

The only other voice she would've hated hearing more was Barty. But James came in close second.

"Why are you here Potter?" She didn't land, so she had to yell for him to hear her properly.

"Is your throat okay? Your voice sounds strained." He was climbing onto his broom, which she hadn't even realised he was holding. But obviously he was, why else would he be here.

"What? I'm fine. Now answer my fucking question." It was a simple question that he'd asked. It shouldn't have made her want to cry. Her voice shouldn't have shook when she answered him. But she knew why it had affected her, the idea of someone caring about her enough to even notice something like that seemed unfathomable.

James Potter didn't care, he didn't care about anyone but himself. She knew that. There was no point obsessing over a lie. Even if he did care about someone, it wouldn't be her. He hated her, she was his enemy. They would never care about each other.

"I'm here because I want to practice Quidditch, and your practice doesn't start for another two hours so I thought I would come down now-" Two hours?

"No, my practice starts in half an hour." She corrected him, slowly moving upwards as he glided towards her.