for editing

AHHH TRAUMA AND ANGST OH NOO

Then Harry remembered something very important, something she said to Dumbledore that would piece everything together: the dream, the Francke's, the prophecy...

"Oona, let me see your collar—"

"There's nothing for you to see." Oona turned away from him, her voice small and scared.

Harry knew he was not mad. He had seen that mark right on her chest, He was convinced it was there — he had seen it staring back at him so many times in the mirror before...

"Show me your collar."

"There's nothing there."

"Prove it."

"Harry! I'm telling you, I'm fine!"

"You're obviously not," he responded matter-of-factly. It was true; Oona was avoiding his eyes and trembling, and though he could only see her back and the side of her face, he knew from the cracks in her voice that she was near tears.

"Why would I lie to you?" she said desperately. "I have never lied to —"

"Don't change the subject," snapped Harry. "That's not what I'm talking about and you know it. Now come here and let me see —"

"No!" Oona's hand, clutching her robes, covered the space of skin Harry had seen so clearly before, her fingers trembling from their powerful hold on her collar. 

"But why not!" exclaimed Harry. "If nothing's wrong, then why won't you just show me your collar?"

"I don't want to!"

She shoved her hand into her pockets so roughly they came close to ripping the hem of her robes. He thought this was odd considering he was talking about the scar on her chest, which had nothing to do with her hand.

"Where and when did you get it?" he asked calmly.

"I got it from the Carrows last year," Oona said hastily. "You weren't here so you wouldn't know. They punished me for helping —"

"Don't lie to me," said Harry sharply.

Oona's head slumped, her arms dropped, and every bone in her body collapsed into itself. She lowered herself to the floor until her legs gave out where she sat, hiding her face in her knees, huddled and tiny. She wrapped both shaking arms around her knees to pull them hard into her chest as if using them as a shield against Harry.

"Oona," said Harry softly, eyeing the vacant spot next to her, wanting to comfort her but fearful she become angry with him. "You know you can talk to me, right? What's going on?"

She pulled the sleeves of her robes over her hands, hiding them under the fabric. Harry noticed with yet another twinge of curiosity that she always seemed particularly fond of covering her left hand.

"I'm fine," she said, but he knew she was lying.

"Oona," he repeated, hoping using her name would have the same effect on her as it did on him.

"I said I'm fine," Oona snapped.

She turned her head away as Harry slid down to sit beside her, but there was something in her eyes that softened where the anger had been quelled, now watching Harry out of the corner of her blue gaze.

Harry shifted on his feet, wanting to comfort her but also desperate for answers as he watched her start to tremble harder. He had always felt out of the know, kept in the dark, and now that the answers were so near, he needed them.

He took a breath, leaning his head against the wall and letting the silence thicken between them. She kept her face away from him, staring at her folded knees, her thick eyelashes rapidly batting away the tears they both knew were there. For her sake, Harry turned his head away, and saw her furiously swiping her face to rid herself of the tears.