Duplicitous | T.N.

LXVI • The highs and hows of a teenage girl

TW: If readers may feel triggered or uncomfortable by any sexual activities or events, you may wish to skip this chapter.

If you know me personally (you know who you are) I suggest you leave this chapter now, it'll only be awkward for the both of us the following day.
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Aurora, with her head buried within the sanctuary of her palms, scored a solace within the darkness behind her closed lids. Her hands concealing her gaze from the body that laid still beside her served as the only comfort she could achieve. She pondered upon the possibilities of his recovery, if within the entire Wizarding population did everybody steal a collective wish would it be granted, would is illness be cured.

Slaying her delusions, she pried open her closed eyes and gazed upon the living corpse. Ron laid, his hands clasped tightly over his stomach, one that had been previously operated on by a staff of medical professionals.

She and Harry had been requested to leave the premises as this occurred.

The morning sun had yet to greet them, delayed by Rory what predicted was the crippling anticipation, she stared solemnly upon the moon, peaking through the open blinds, its gentle rays caressed the dull complexion of Ronald Weasley, his almost corpse an unsettling shade of dull blue, she preyed it was just a trick of the eye.

The poisoned Wizard was not the only one painted blue. Harry, before her, did not quake at the sight of his friend. His expression, stoic, and almost frighteningly so, refused to part with his best friend.

And through this particular gaze did she recognise his exhaustion. Barely sixteen with the pressure of the world perched upon his shoulders. A communities worth of stress, clouding his very vision. Barely sixteen, and his mind had already experienced the wrath of the word someone by eighty should have lived.

And it was through his dulcet stare, when his eyes finally met hers, even if it were for a bare moment, could she see his youth had been stolen, and he had no means to find it, with no or time nor the will. It was no less than purely agonising to witness. "Harry?" Came her mumbled breath, unsure what it was she really wanted to say.

He glanced up. "Mm?"

"He's gonna be okay." She assured them both, her miserable attempt soothing neither.

"Yeah, I know." He feigned. "What worries me –" the witch was surprised by his confession. "Is that someone intentionally poisoned that mead. Whether they meant to hurt us or not, there is someone dangerous here."

"Are you accusing Malfoy again?"

"Yes." The Wizard confessed. And Theodore. He did not say.

"Harry I trust you." That was the truth. "More than anybody." Then a half truth. "But Malfoy can't be a death eater." Followed by a lie. They each knew it was possible, it simply took guts to believe it.

"Why?" His tone louder than it should've been. "Why not? All the facts point right to him!" He rounded the bed and grabbed her hands. "Rora please please be careful. You can't just go around trusting everyone!"

Her eyes widened. "Harry?" His desperation, frightening.

The boy was quick to interrupt. "I couldn't bare it if someone hurt you or Hermione the way they've done Ron, for Merlin's sake, I can't even swallow this." His arm extended towards the Weasley boy. He grabbed her hand again, his knees on the floor.

"Harry, no one's going to hurt me." She stared down upon him, her face blank.

Another lie.

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