Being a Gryffindor was supposed to be about victories, the bright and the bold, and shouting what had to be said. But now she knew that was not all there was to her. Being her meant losses, dark shadows, and things that could not be said.
Sitting on the floor of the Astronomy Tower, Angelina pulled her arms around her, feeling a sudden chill. The door had just opened. She tried to pull her legs to her chest but the pain made her stop.
Without looking up she wondered if He'd come back. A glance at the shoes in front of her calmed her slightly, only slightly.
----->-----
He'd come to the tower to scare off whichever couple had come to steal a few kisses or to do more. For him, the best part of being a prefect was that he had the power to interrupt the pleasure of others, especially those who were not of his house. Every day he lived through their scorn and hatred and every night he repaid them for it.
He hadn't expected her to be there, looking so small and fragile. Immediately, he was reminded of the glass ornament his father had thrown against the wall, the object barely missing his mother's head. It had shattered into a million pieces, which cut into his fingers when he tried to pick them up.
It was strange to him that she wasn't making a sound. Her gaze was on the floor and her braids covered her face. He kneeled down and tried to push them behind her ear, but she flinched away.
And now he noticed the smell. It was familiar to him. The smell of violence and unshed tears. He looked down and noticed the blood on her thighs and legs. Bile rose to his throat.
Not her, he thought frantically. He couldn't come up with any reasoning behind his thought, but it was there.
He wanted to ask who did this to her, but he couldn't find the words. Instead he lifted her gently and started for the infirmary.
Notes
The title of the story is a verse taken from W.B. Yeat's "Leda and the Swan."
The title of this chapter is taken from Deftones' "Change (In the House of Flies)" from their album White Pony.