Anna Black, The Girl Who Lived (Book 6)

27: Betrayal

"Anna, what's wrong with you?" asked Harry as they headed to the dungeons. She shrugged. "For the past week you've been off. You've barely said a word...hell, even Mundy's concerned-"

Her grey eyes snapped to him. "You've been talking to Caspar?"

Harry gave a nervous chuckle. "Well, erm, yeah. I thought he may know, but he doesn't...Anna, please just tell me-"

"No," said Anna simply, swallowing the lump in her throat as she caught a glimpse of Harry's sad expression.

She felt so heavy. So sick. So...dead. She wasn't even dead yet but she sure as hell felt like it and part of her wished Voldemort would just get it done and over with.

It was hard to carry the burden of knowing when you were going to die, but even more so when it's the person you care for more than anyone else in this world. For Anna, it wasn't Caspar that she cared for most, but Harry.

So not only was she upset about their fate, but she was also confused yet again on her feelings.

Yes, she knew that she could love platonically, but whenever she looked at Harry, she wondered if it would be the last time. Her heart begged her to fall into his arms and make the most of their last days. Her feelings towards Caspar weren't gone, but compromised. She decided to avoid Harry at all costs, but Dumbledore sent the request for them to visit Slughorn tonight so it had forced her hand.

But back to keeping the secret of their fate. Anna was caught in a predicament.

She couldn't eat because she felt sick constantly. She couldn't focus in class because she was focused too hard on Occlumency to the best of her ability. And worst of all, she couldn't sleep in fear of Voldemort entering her mind or her talking in her sleep.

She was tired, starving, and failing her classes.

She was stuck in a vicious, spiraling cycle; much like the one she had at the start of the year, as much as it pained her to say.

Harry was beyond worried for her. He thought she was relapsing in her depression. She started to lose weight and the dark bags contrasted heavily from her pale, sickly skin.

So while Anna was trying to stay away, Harry was suffocating her in fear of her taking her life again.

"Anna...if you want me to talk to him instead I can," he said carefully. "You really should get some sleep."

"I am sleeping," she lied monotonously.

"I don't know how to say this but, well, you look like Death."

Her eyes flickered with something resentful, but she was so fatigued she couldn't even process anything. She heard whispering constantly...she assumed it was hallucinations. She stopped caring so much that barely anything phased her at this point.

They approached the door and Harry opened his mouth to offer again to do the taking, but Anna had already raised a lazy fist to knock on the door.

"Come in!" called Slughorn from inside. The duo entered to see him just pouring the last dregs of a concoction into a glass vial before looking up.

"Ah Harry m'boy! And Anna! What a treat this is, indeed! You know, we haven't talked much since the party."

"Sorry sir," said Harry sheepishly. "We've been-"

"Miss Black, you look dreadful. Is everything alright?" Slughorn cut him off, turning to the dazed girl.

Anna's eyes were a dull, cloudy grey. Dark spots clouded over her vision, leaving a grey fog to remain clinging. She felt as if she could collapse at any moment.