human again / hp.

Chapter 130

I've been avoiding him.

Not subtly. Not with grace or strategy. Just plain, awkward, transparent avoidance.

In the corridors, I duck behind statues or slip into empty classrooms when I hear his voice. At meals, I sit facing the wall of the Great Hall, pretending to be fascinated by my soup. When we pass each other between classes, I suddenly find the floor fascinating. The seams of the stone. The scuff of my shoes.

Every time he looks at me, my stomach knots. And when he speaks. When his voice brushes the air and it sounds like my name is trying to slip from his lips. I flee before I can hear it.

It's not because I don't want to talk about the kiss.

I do.

It's because I can't.

It was easier in the beginning. Before the library. When everything between us was quiet glances and unfinished sentences. I could carry that. I could pretend.

I knew he wanted to talk about the kiss. I could feel it in the way he looked at me. Lingering, uncertain, hopeful. Like he thought maybe it had meant something.

It had.

But I couldn't let myself admit that. Not to him. Not to anyone.

And that's exactly the problem.

I'm not supposed to feel anything. Especially not for him.

Not when I've done what I've done. Not when I know what I've been told to do.

Not when Voldemort marked my skin and gave me orders.

The common room was too warm. The fire too loud. My skin felt wrong. Tight, like it didn't belong on me anymore.

It was raining. I watched it from the common room window for a long time, chin resting on my knees, arms wrapped around my legs. Hermione was curled up nearby with a book, but we hadn't said much. Things between us were... tentative. Better than before. But not the way they once were.

Nothing was.

Eventually I stood up and told her I needed some air. She didn't question it. Just looked at me with those warm, quiet eyes and nodded once.

I slipped out without thinking.

I left my book half-read and my tea untouched, and I walked.

It was late. The halls were dim and quiet, the shadows long, flickering as the torches swayed in their brackets. My footsteps echoed softly, the silence pressing in close, but it still wasn't quiet enough. My head buzzed. My chest felt too full.

Katie's scream. That image hadn't left me.

It clawed into the back of my mind, just beneath the surface. Her hand withering. Her body crumpling. The necklace slipping from her fingers like a dying serpent.

My fault.

The way Harry looked at me in the library after I kissed him, like he was searching for something behind my eyes.

I didn't know if he found it.

I walked faster, hugging my arms around myself. My clothes were too thin. I didn't care.

I didn't have a plan. I wasn't trying to go anywhere. I just wanted to move. To outrun the memories. But the air in the castle felt thick and choking, pressing against my ribs. My silver ring dug into my finger where I had clenched my fist.

Outside, the rain had started again.

At first I just stood in front of the window, watching it.

It wasn't a soft drizzle. It was heavy, cold, wild. The kind of rain that stung your skin and soaked you through and didn't let you pretend. It blurred the castle grounds in a curtain of silver, drumming against the stones like it wanted to be let in.