salvation - f.weasley

The art of pretending and punching

house of balloons - the weeknd

• • •

The next evening, Grace makes her way back to the dormitory after a tiring day. It started with an early morning Quidditch practice, followed by a full day of classes, and ended with a study session in the library with Roger and Achilles.

When she opens the door, Ania is there, lying on her bed with a book in hand. She doesn't even look up from her pages. Grace lets out a sigh and heads straight for the bathroom.

She takes a long, hot shower that feels heavenly. The scorching water cascades over her skin, and she feels her muscles start to relax.

Reluctantly, she finally steps out of the shower. Wiping the steam off the mirror, she inspects her face. The dark circles are back, and she has never looked paler than today. It feels like the holidays are truly over.

Grace sighs, slips into her pajamas, and steps back into the room. Seeing Ania with her back turned, she suddenly can't take the situation any longer. She misses Ania more than she cares to admit. Slamming down one of the books she was putting away from her bag onto the desk makes Ania jump.

"Can we talk?"

Ania sits up, her gaze fixed on the floor. "What do you want to say?"

Grace rolls her eyes and plops down on her bed. "I don't understand your reaction. I don't see what I did wrong other than making a new friend. That's it."

Ania says nothing, nervously fiddling with the blanket. Grace lets out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm sorry I didn't respond to your letter. I'm really happy for you and Lee, you know? I just... I was busy for once. I didn't even think about it. I'm sorry."

Ania remains silent, and Grace feels anger bubbling up inside her but tries her best to quell the storm.

"Look, I just feel like I don't have the right to be happy. It feels like you're mad at me for having a good holiday, and I'm struggling to understand why."

Grace pauses, noticing tears welling up in Ania's eyes.

"I can understand Weasley reacting the way he did, but you, Ania? I just don't get it."

Faced with Ania's silence, Grace feels her heart tighten. "Well, I see how it is. Good night."

And before she goes to bed, Grace swears she hears Ania sobbing.

• • •

February is already well underway, marked by late-night study sessions and long dinners shared with Achilles and Roger. Most of Grace's time, however, has been spent on the Quidditch pitch, preparing her team for the upcoming Slytherin-Ravenclaw match and, more pressingly, for the Harpies' tryouts in early April.

She hasn't spoken to Ania since their fallout, and her friend still imposes an icy silence between them. Ania barely spends her nights in the dormitory anymore and has taken most of her meals at the Gryffindor table. Though she tries to ignore the gnawing ache of losing Ania, it's a wound that refuses to heal. But with so much on her plate, she pushes the pain aside, focusing on anything else to keep it at bay.

As for Fred, she does her best to ignore the dark looks he shoots her in the hallways. Whenever their paths cross during patrols, he seems determined to avoid her at all costs, quickening his pace or ducking out of sight before she can say a word. It stings more than she's willing to admit.

Winter's bite still lingers in the air, but the sharp winds have given way to relentless days of rain. Grace stares out the vast library windows, watching the rain cascade down the glass. She, Roger, and Achilles have gathered for another evening of studying after dinner, though her focus seems to be elsewhere.