Alina Nightshade doesn't think much about James Potter. Only that he seems rather keen on being annoying.
James Potter thinks Alina Nightshade is a mystery all wrapped up in a very pretty girl. And he is keen on trying to be her friend.
James Potte...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⚠️Make sure you are on the right chapter since wattpad hates me!!! ⚠️
TW suicidal ideation
Alina stares at her reflection in the mirror, her face pale and drawn. Merlin, she's tired. Bone-deep exhaustion clings to her like a shadow.
She isn't sleeping much—barely a few hours over the past several nights. And it doesn't help that, just a few days ago, she saw him. Tom Riddle. Standing outside the window, on the Hogwarts grounds.
Not that it matters. Insanity is insanity, no matter how it starts.
Rubbing her eyes harshly, Alina tears herself away from the vanity. She crosses the room to the bench at the foot of her bed and sits down to put on her shoes. Her movements are sluggish, deliberate. She hates it. Why does sleep have to be so vital to the human mind and body? It's maddeningly inconvenient. She forces a deep breath into her lungs, trying to ignore the weight pressing on her chest.
Her gaze drifts to her bag resting beside her. The flower pin attached to it catches her eye, pulling her thoughts to an unwelcome memory.
James's voice rings in her head, clear as if he's standing beside her.
"The bet didn't matter—not after I realized I liked you, okay? I forgot about the bet because all I wanted was you! I only cared about you! I want you, Alina."
Her nails dig sharply into her palms. The bet didn't matter. Does he really believe that? Had it truly slipped his mind? Had it meant nothing to him the whole time?
Her throat tightens painfully, a lump she can't swallow. She doesn't want to think about it—doesn't want to remember the way her heart fluttered at his words. As if the months of hurt, of betrayal, could vanish just like that.
Shaking her head, Alina grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder. Breakfast will start soon. She might as well leave her dorm, even though she feels like a ghost haunting the hallways.
She needs sleep. She knows she does. But every time she closes her eyes, she sees him. Tom's composed face, his piercing dark eyes. A reminder, unshakable and relentless.
She doesn't want to think about him, or James, or anything at all.
The common room is quiet, a few students scattered here and there. Alina slips past them unnoticed, her steps soft on the stone floor. The dungeon air is colder now—October's chill creeping in as autumn deepens. The icy drafts bite at her exposed skin.
Her footsteps echo sharply against the stairs as she climbs out of the dungeons, heading for the main floor. The early morning sun filters weakly through the castle's tall windows, but dark clouds loom on the horizon. It's going to rain soon; she's sure of it.
