Rivals | D.M

8. "ok"

Aster's POV

I pace the empty dorm, the stifling heat from the nearby small fireplace making me itch and clench my fists.

The room is empty, only four single beds circle me, my roommate's belongings scattered in various nooks and crannies. The room is old and musky, but small enough that the fire sets the room ablaze.

The last hour races through my mind, disgust lies at the back of my dry throat. Disgust for what my Aunt and Uncle said to me. And on top of that, what I did with Draco. For that I was just angry at myself, infuriated. What was he going to tell everyone? That a measly half-blood attacked him in a dark alleyway, desperate and weak?

I hit my hands on the hard oak bed posts, the pain reverberating through my palms and into my wrists. I don't wince, I don't cry I just stare at my palms as if they were not a part of me. The sharp side of the bedpost has slit my hand open and I watched as red blood trickles down my wrist and onto my forearm. I don't even wipe it off, I just watch until it clots and bubbles.

I thought back to the conversation with my Uncle, the severity coating his face, the worried look in my Aunt's eyes.

What was going on?

I suddenly had the urge to write to my parents. Ensure they are safe. But before I pick up a quill and piece of parchment, I stop myself. What if they were unsafe? What if I wrote to them about my Uncle and Aunt and got them into trouble as well as my own parents? I was never going to see them again, but I wouldn't wish death upon anyone.

I knew it had something to do with the dark lord. He who must not be named. I had heard murmurs in the common room, murmurs about his reappearance, his horrific ways. I was a Slytherin, but I also knew that to be successful you were to weigh all possible outcomes before deciding your fate.

I nibbled at my nail, unsure. The taste of metallic coated my lips. I wiped my hand on my jeans, spreading the dark blood onto the rough material.

I hear someone outside my door and Harper appears, her face flushed from the cold and her scarf wrapped tightly around her. She throws her beanie onto her bed, the nearest to the fireplace.

She hovers over the roaring fire, basking her hands in the heat of the flames. Harper was as cold-blooded as they came, a pure Slytherin in that sense. She turns to face me, her face bright and optimistic. That is, before she sees my hands and my disheveled look on my face.

"What the fuck happened?!" She cries, her eyes crinkle in concern. She rushes over to me and pulls me onto my bed. We sit side by side as she runs her smooth fingers over the cut, the bubbles of blood pop as she inspects it.

"That was an accident. I hit my hand on the side of the bedpost" I explain, my voice monotone and low.

She looks up and assesses my face. Her eyes turn cool and calculated.

"What happened?" she asks again, this time quieter.

I leave my hand in hers as I tell her what happened between my Uncle and Aunt. I leave out what happened with Draco, not ready to disclose about my impending doom that was my reputation.

Her mouth gapes a little as I explain. I wasn't worried about telling Harper, I trusted her with my life. She was also just as cunning and resourceful as anyone in this damned house, if anyone was to try and harm her she could easily outsmart them in a heartbeat and have their feet knocked out from beneath them.

"What are you going to do?" She places me hand back into my own lap.

"Nothing" I say simply. I watch as she nods while her brain tinkers away.