Forbidden Fantasies (Darkest Desire Book 2)

37. The Beauty Of A Broken Angel

The wait....

Waiting. Wait. Sounds easy, right? One second, then the next. Each moment, every minute, every hour, passing by like the never-ending intrusive thoughts that whirl around my head, relentless.

Full bladder. Thirsty. Hungry. Cold. Aching muscles. Bored. I'm supposed to wait here until someone, anyone, comes and I'm already so wound up I'll probably just punch whoever it is when he or she gets here.  

There is a kind of waiting that feels like gentle onshore breezes kissing salty stones. It isn't warm but there is a sense of calm, of nature, of things expected. Then there is the kind that feels like the head of a medieval mace is loose in my guts and my head has taken a beating with a hefty plank of wood. As I wait to hear from Harry, from Sirius, from Albus.... it is the latter. I stare so hard my mind almost conjures up images of Albus telling me everything's all-right. Of Minerva receiving news in the form of a fiery burst of flames and Fawkes carrying a not saying everyone's safe and sound back at Grimmauld Place 12. Anything really to please me, but I won't let it. Tonight I have to stay in reality, for Severus. For Harry. For all of us, and not depart into the fantasy life that demands my attention at all the worst moments.  

One second. Two. Three.... 

Hours must have gone by, hours in which at least a hundred worst-case scenario's made their unwanted appearance inside my minds eye, only to be dismissed by my wishful thinking. I felt the tension and anxiety build up in me as I stared blankly, my mind full of emptiness. Before the panic could eat me alive, I managed to catch up on subtle breathing exercises to help me relax. 

I stared at the black-framed wall clock for the ninth time this hour, scrutinizing the second hand, which seemed to linger an extra minute at every passing second. I took my gaze off of the clock, silently vowing to not look at it once more until absolutely necessary, and glanced up again, only to find Minerva giving me a questioning look. She hadn't said as much as a single word since she told me we'd just have to wait and see what happened. As I'd just come to realize, she must have been in that exact same position multiple times. She was a strong woman, decisive, and not to be trifled with. And yet, she'd been here before. Waiting, hoping. As Transfigurations Mistress she was also Albus's closest confidante, the one who kept Hogwarts running in more ways than one. And yet, she'd have had to wait to hear from people who put their lives on the line for the Order on more than one occasion. She'd have had Harry, Ron and Hermione on her hands for the past five years, and Merlin knew how often those three got into trouble. The waiting was proving to be excruciating for me, and it only made me respect her more, knowing how strong she was to have gone through this before and come out unscathed.

Just as I regained my steady heart beat by breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth, I heard the unmistakable sound of flames, the whoosh of air and crackling of fire that came with the apparition of a Phoenix. It was quite distinguishable, really,  and my pulse rate shot up once again, upon realizing what was nearing. While I desperately tried to regain my normal state, I saw Minerva's look of understanding, of that swirl of fear and hope that mix and intertwine in a vortex of apprehension and despair,  before she jumped up from her seat and headed to where Fawkes had landed on her desk. 

I stood up almost too quick, sending a sharp searing pain along my ankle as I painfully jerked my knee on the armchair of the seat I'd been sitting on while getting up.  The pain was a reminder that I needed to be careful, and unconsciously my hand went to my stomach. I needed to stop that. It would be suspicious to anyone who saw me do that, and I couldn't let anyone find out about my pregnancy. Not when so many things were happening all at once. I could barely stop my hands from shaking when I watched Minerva tear the piece of parchment from Fawkes's leg.