VERDANT OUTCASTS | cedric diggory

²⁰ | new killer in town

CHAPTER TWENTY,
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Katarina lies across an armchair, limbs tangled as she sinks into the worn cushions. Her arm is thrown over her eyes in an attempt to block out the sunlight peering through the depth of the black lake. The armchair itself is far too small for her to comfortably stretch out on, and she can already feel the tightness in her neck forming from the awkward angle. She knows she'll pay for it later— the inevitable stiffness and pain— but right now, she's far too exhausted to move.

The rest of January had passed by in a heap of assignments and falling snow, yet it dragged Katarina deeper into a relentless cycle of exhaustion. She still hasn't managed to gather anything useful from her Slytherin friends— no incriminating whispers nor any late-night confessions. But then again, she's hardly awake when they are. Her nights are sleepless, leaving her wandering the corridors or lying wide-eyed in bed while they sleep soundly. During the day, she stumbles through classes, forcing herself to stay conscious as the hours blur together.

Her sleep, when it comes, hasn't gotten any better. The Muggle girl still lingers, her presence as vivid as the time Katarina first saw her in that alley. Every few stolen minutes of rest are filled with the girl's terrified eyes, leaving Katarina to wake gasping, the memory lodged in her chest. Dolohov has yet to appear, though Katarina suspects it's only a matter of time. Thus, every day has become a torturous repetition.

She forces herself to get ready for class, dragging her body through her daily routine. She listens, or tries to, as her professors drone on, though the words seem to float past her like a distant hum. Her eyelids grow heavier with every passing hour, until she can't hold them open any longer.

Once classes are over, Katarina sleeps anywhere and everywhere. At lunch, her head falls onto the table, jerking her awake when she nearly spills her pumpkin juice. At dinner, she leans her cheek against her hand, hoping no one notices the way her eyes flutter closed for a moment too long.

The library has become a refuge, where she drifts off while pretending to read, only to be jolted awake by the slam of a book or the murmur of her friends' voices.

She's given up on mascara entirely. It smudges every time she sleeps, leaving black streaks beneath her eyes that only make her look worse. Dark circles already haunt her face, casting shadows under her eyes, but with the smeared makeup, she looks even more hideous. She knows people have noticed— how could they not?—but she's too tired to care anymore. What's the point of hiding it when she can't even keep her eyes open long enough to catch their reactions?

Katarina pulls herself through each day, waiting for it to end but dreading the nights even more. It's all just a cycle now— wake up, survive, collapse, repeat. And every night, the Muggle girl is waiting.

The Muggle girl. All that, and Katarina doesn't even know her name. She wants to cry all over again.

But as she lies on the armchair, trying to will herself into a moment of peace, she catches the faintest sound of footsteps. They're soft, deliberately so, but clumsy— whoever it is, they're not as discreet as they think. A smothered giggle escapes from the intruder, confirming her suspicions that someone is approaching.

She doesn't move, not right away. Instead, she listens to the faint shuffle of feet getting closer. Her annoyance builds, mingling with the heavy exhaustion already pulling at her.