Bound By Blood.

ch.32~ Demons.

"The thought of seeing you again makes me nauseous. 

How could someone who looks the same, be so different on the inside. 

It's okay, I won't fall for it again. 

I can't."

Recovered undelivered correspondents between Order Member Alexandra Brooks, to Death Eater Matteo Riddle. Dated somewhere between 2000-2001.

Order warehouse, unknown location, 2003.

Alexandra.

I stopped, and stared a little longer in front of my mirror this morning. 

Almost taking myself in, well, what was left of me at least. 

Seventeen year old Alex, would make fun of Twenty Three year old Alex. 

The way I now looked, carried myself. My flat hair, my baggy eyes. The way my clothes now hang off of me, rather than fit me. The gut wrenching scar, lining the entirety of my thigh, up to my mid stomach. 

She'd laugh at me. 

Little Alex would have laughed at my disheveled appearance, but I couldn't afford to laugh with her anymore.

I'd laugh right back. 

Because little Alex, had no fucking idea what was about to happen to her. Little, naive, too trusting, wide eyed Alex. And for that, I'd pity her. 

Wishing, I took her in one last time.

So, I stand here, "admiring" what I am today, because after this mission, who knows what'll be left. 

So, I stood there, locked in a staring contest with my reflection, my thoughts racing as I tried to reconcile the girl I once was with the woman I had become. 

Just as I turned to face the emptiness that lay beyond my room, the door burst open, and Hermione rushed in, her brow furrowed with concern. "Alex," she said breathlessly, "we need to go over the plan again. This mission is crucial, and we can't afford any mistakes—"

I held up a hand, cutting her off mid-sentence. "Can't we just skip the details for a second?" I snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "It feels like we haven't had a decent conversation in ages, Hermione."

Her confidence wavered, a hint of surprise flashing in her eyes. "I just thought you'd want to be prepared. It's important to—"

"To what?" I interrupted, anger fueling my words. "You're so wrapped up in your books and your plans that you can't even see how much I'm struggling. Five fucking years I struggled. I don't want your advice when you can't even be bothered to look up from your precious research book long enough to realize I'm falling apart!" I scoffed, "Fell apart." I corrected myself. 

The silence that followed was deafening. 

Hermione's expression shifted from concern to something akin to hurt, her mouth opening as if to defend herself but then falling quietly shut.

"You think I don't care?" she finally replied, voice trembling slightly. "I'm trying to help you because I do care. I can see how much you've been through, I thought you'd welcome the support."

I shook my head, anger dissolving into a deeper sense of sadness. "Support?" I scoffed. "You're so focused on your plans, Hermione. Where we went wrong, what we could do right," I took a deep breath, "I could've used your support when I couldn't walk for a year and a half! Where were you?! In a book!"