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...
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Another sleepless night.
Alina isn't sure if she physically can't sleep or if her brain has forced her into survival mode, determined to avoid seeing Tom Riddle—in her dreams, visions, or anywhere else.
Either way, it's exhausting.
The only silver lining is how much schoolwork she's managed to finish during the night. Multiple essays are now completed, even though they aren't due for weeks.
As breakfast approaches, Alina carefully slides the pieces of parchment into her satchel. Her mind feels foggy, her body sluggish, but every time she tries to rest, it's like her thoughts conspire against her. Perhaps she needs to brew a Sleeping Draught—or at least a Calming Draught—to force herself into slumber.
Then again, it probably wouldn't work.
She lets out an irritated breath and kneels down to strap on her shoes, fastening them quickly before standing and grabbing her bag. Without glancing back at her dorm, she heads out.
The common room is still quiet, though faint footsteps and murmurs echo from the staircases leading to the dormitories. Other students will soon be awake, filling the space with chatter. Alina hurries through the Slytherin common room and into the dungeon corridors, her slightly heeled shoes striking the stone floor with a sharp rhythm. The sound grounds her, pulling her from the haze of her thoughts.
The Great Hall comes into view before long, sunlight spilling through the enchanted ceiling and casting a golden glow over the long tables. Alina walks to the Slytherin table, sliding into a seat across from Peter.
"Morning," she greets, setting her bag down beside her.
"Good morning," Peter replies with a bright smile.
It seems forced.
Alina narrows her eyes as she settles into her seat. "What's wrong with you?" she asks bluntly.
Peter's smile falters. "What do you mean?" he asks, tilting his head in mock confusion.
"You seem off," she says, grabbing a pomegranate from the table and placing it on her plate, her gaze flickering away momentarily.
Peter's shoulders slump slightly. "I'm okay," he murmurs, adding a few items to his plate. His voice trails off. "I just... I don't want to upset you."
Alina's eyes snap back to him, narrowed in scrutiny. Upset her? What could he mean by that?
James, Sirius, and Remus.
Of course.
Peter misses them. It's the only explanation that makes sense. His hesitation, his nervous energy—it all points to the same conclusion.
