Leah Labelle has spent most of her years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the shadows, always present but never quite noticed. She often felt caught between not being ugly enough to be bullied and not being captivating enough to seiz...
I feel like an intruder, an interloper encroaching upon forbidden territory. Against all odds, here I am, holding her close, cherishing a moment that should never have existed to begin with.
The rational part of me screams to retreat, to sever this connection that defies all sense. But with her in my arms, I find a solace akin to finally fitting the last piece into a fragmented puzzle. My attempts to disengage falter; I'm ensnared, bound to her as if our bond were forged from unbreakable bonds.
Her plaintive whisper shatters the fragile equilibrium I've fought to maintain. ❝Why do you hate me so much?❞she breathes, a question laden with unbearable weight.
I shut my eyes firmly, lowering my head to rest atop hers, unable to meet her gaze. In this moment, I yearn that once this impending ordeal concludes, I'll remain alive, alive enough to confess the truth, to implore her forgiveness for the multitude of wrongs. It's a desperate hope, akin to praying for a miracle to salvage what's left between us.
As her breath grazes my neck, her subtle inhalation echoes in my ears. My instinct to retreat intensifies, the metallic scent of blood mingling with the air, a stark reminder of her wounded hand. With a swift flick of my wand, a healing spell weaves its way, mending the painful gashes etched upon her skin.
Attempting to pull away, my gaze inadvertently locks with hers. Her eyes, glistening amidst damp lashes, peer up at me, an unspoken narrative lingering within her stare.
❝You know who I am,❞ she declares, a certainty resonating in her words.
If you only knew, I think to myself, suppressing a smirk that tugs at the corners of my mouth.
❝Not sure I know what you are talking about,❞ I shrug casually, attempting to revert to my persona of callousness towards her.
A vivid image floods my mind: her and Mattheo, entwined in affection at the corridor's end, sharing tender kisses, bidding each other goodnight. Suddenly, creating distance between us becomes effortless.
I stride away, deliberately averting my eyes from her ethereal presence, basking in the gentle moonlight that casts a halo around her.
Midway through the corridor, a collision interrupts my path, or perhaps I'm the one carelessly bumping into another. My attention, scattered and distant, pays no heed.
It's Mattheo, probably looking for her, his eyes knitting into a frown upon glimpsing my blood-stained shirt—remnants of Leah's injured hand.
❝Who's on your hit list?❞ he jests, a chuckle trailing his words.
Your fucking relationship, I want to say, though my response manifests as a mere roll of the eyes.
❝You seen Leah?❞ his inquiry follows, his tone laced with worry.
My jaw tenses, a gesture paired with a wordless shake of my head. Yes—undeniably, I'm the worst kind of person.
❝I can't find her,❞ he adds, his concern palpable in the air between us.
I take a better look at my friend as he stands there, leaning casually as I do. It triggers a rush of ugly emotions within me as I observe him. The son of Voldemort, fully aware of the impending peril, selfishly dragging Leah into the looming dangers, her obliviousness a stark contrast.
Anger simmers, bubbling to the surface. He's dismantling all the safeguards I've put in place for her, everything I've done to protect her.
❝Do you not realize the danger you're leading her into?❞The words escape my lips, disregarding the potential fallout.
His demeanor shifts, his expression growing grave. ❝Who said I'm putting her in harm's way?❞ His retort, laden with darkness, stirs an uproar within me.
❝There is a war coming, and you know it. Are you ready to let her suffer for your choices? To be used as leverage when you defy your father?❞
❝None of that-❞ he attempts to interject.
❝Come on, don't play dumb,❞I cut him off sharply, my frustration boiling over.
His gaze locks onto mine, a storm brewing in his eyes, on the verge of eruption. I almost wish he would, granting me a pretext to unleash my pent-up rage upon him.
❝I love her, Theo,❞ he confesses.
I scoff incredulously. ❝Love her?❞ I laugh bitterly. ❝You don't love her. Love is sacrifice—protecting her at any cost, even if it shatters you to stay away, ensuring her safety and happiness, even if it's not by your side. That's love.❞
He attempts to speak, the words lingering on the brink before retreating. I forge ahead, intent on passing by him without a second glance.
❝You're wrong,❞ his voice reverberates through the desolate, dimly lit corridor. I ignore his words, continuing my stride, granting him a moment to voice his thoughts.
❝We share the kind of love where we'd lay down our lives for one another,❞ his declaration hangs heavy in the air.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I fight the urge to whirl around and confront him physically. I just want to beat the fucking shit out of him.
❝That's not fucking love, Mattheo. It's recklessness and selfishness. Love entails protecting, not subjecting those you cherish to the worst depths of suffering,❞ I correct him before I start walking again, unable to be in the same room as him.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
Kind of curious, who do you guys want Leah to end up with?
