Ten Questions (Harry Potter x Slytherin reader)

Chapter 56

Hugging my arms and legs close to my body, a shiver rolls down my the back of my spine. It's cold in the Hogwarts kitchens. The air is still, and despite the quiet, I feel on edge. Jaw clenched and body tense, I can't help but feel the uneasiness that seeps through my whole body, making me feel almost nauseous.

It's been hours since Harry and his friends had left for the department of mysteries to find Sirius. Every minute or so, without meaning to, my eyes flicker to the entrance of the kitchens, waiting for him to step through the door.

But he doesn't.

I heave a sigh and stretch out my legs along the kitchen table- letting them dangle off the edge as I lay myself down. Looking up towards the ceiling, which is cluttered with pots and pans hanging from it, I run through every possibility of what could currently be going wrong at the ministry.

Harry could be dead. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna- all of them could be hurt at this very moment, or worse. If Voldemort was really there, the five of them alone would not be enough.

Suddenly, my face begins to grow hot, and I bury my face in my hands as I feel a sudden and sharp stab of regret.

I shouldn't have let him go without me. I should have put up a real fight.

But instead, I just let him go.

I groan, pushing the thoughts out of my mind and replacing them with more optimistic ones. I tell myself that nothing is wrong, and that Harry will return soon. I convince myself that Sirius will be all right, and that no harm has been done to anyone. I imagine everybody returning to Hogwarts unscathed. I imagine Harry running to me, a look of relief on his face as he tells me in great detail how he managed to find Sirius and fight off his captors. I tell myself that it will all be over soon, and I can escape off to Grimmauld place with Harry. I'll never have to face my family, and I will never have to bear the dark mark for as long as I live.

At least, that's what I tell myself.

My eyes trail along the bottom of the left arm, and I quickly scold myself for doing so- aggressively pulling down my sleeve and averting my gaze elsewhere. I hug my arms close to my body once more and rest my head on my knees. After a few moments, I let myself close my eyes and exhale, slowly pushing the air out of my lungs.

From the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of movement. My head instantly snaps up, my eyes darting towards the doorway, and when they finally land on him, I let out a small gasp.

"Harry."

My eyes go round with horror as I look at him. He's stood at the entrance, his face is bloodied and bruised. The sleeves of his jacket are torn and ripped, along with his shirt, which is stained with spots of dark red. His eyes are hollow and empty, and he stares down at the floor, his lip quivering as he does so.

At once, I slide off the table and run towards him. I wrap my arms around him and hug him.

He doesn't return it- his arms hang at his sides.

When I pull back, I see that he is still staring at the ground, the same emptiness in his eyes. I tilt my head to the side and stare at him. An uneasy feeling begins to settle into my stomach. "What happened, Harry?"

When he doesn't answer, I take a step backward and look him up and down, searching for any serious injuries. When I find none, I grab him by the arm and gently lead him back to the tables.

It's quiet for a long moment. My heartbeat begins to quicken. I don't know what happened in the department of mysteries. I try to run through every possible situation, and with each passing moment, my imagination conjures something more gruesome- more terrible.