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Her eyes narrowed when she saw George leaving a kiss on Lhu's forehead a few metres away from her position in the hallway.
Lee and Fred, who stopped their chat when they noticed the green-eyed's presence, looked at each other before giving a few steps towards her.
She held her books tightly against her chest and turned her head to look at Draco, who came in her direction looking at the Gryffindors before eyeing his girlfriend.
"I would like to leave," she said looking at him.
"D'you want me to buy you more sugar quills?" he asked passing an arm around her to then leave a kiss on her temple before starting to walk towards the library to study. She nodded.
In the path, her eyes crossed with Potter's. Her anger grew.
Her friends didn't trust her for a bloody bloke who was being manipulated by a headmaster who didn't even look at him?
Ha! La vita è bella.
Stupid — whatever thing that 'Dumbledore Army' was.
Why it always had to be Potter?
Exactly why Potter has to teach? Just because he knew how to "fight" The Dark Lord? Had he actually fought him? Did he knew what it was practically to live with him and feel that panic to have him nearby? What it feels when he caresses your cheek with that rotten smile he has? How every nerve on his body bristled when he gave him that look with his red eyes as if he was waiting for something or you? Did he know what was like to have to hide in his room with the fear of being marked with a mark that you would've to have tattooed in his skin every day?
No, he didn't.
Betrayal is colour brown. Like dirt. It stains your face, leaves it filthy, full of bacterias and germs that can kill you. As a number it could be 17, the one exemplifies a person, the seven would be another with a dagger. The second person stabs the first one in the back and watches it bleed until the first person dies.
She keeps feeling that way.
Dirt being thrown at her face. Seeing seventeens all over the places she looks.
But now isn't only her who feels that way.
"Because it isn't like that!"
"Then tell me how's it!"
"They're our friends!"
"Okay, and?!" she opens her mouth only to shut it. "You spent days fucking refusing to even glance at them and you're now telling that everything's fine?"
"They made a mistake—"
"A mistake that kept you crying day and night," and she knows he's right. He's just trying to protect her. "And you didn't even tell me what was it."
