A/N-Hope you like the chapter.
Chapter Twelve
Bella glared at her bleary-eyed reflection. She gripped the sink with whitened hands and cursed her tears. Embarrassment stung her. The morning's events kept replaying in her head like a skipping record…only worse. She heard the words repeat themselves, but also saw the faces…Hermione, Ron and Ginny glaring hatefully…Luna, innocent as always and puzzled…Harry…well, Harry.
Bella sobbed suddenly. Her head bent over the sink as if she were going to be sick. Tears poured out instead.
Why was she so emotional lately? Events that once would have bounced right off her protective shell now drove her to tears. At least when she had lied, she was tough. When she felt nothing, nothing could hurt her…But it was impossible not to care. Hogwarts was the place she'd dreamed of all her life. The only place she could begin to be herself.
She straightened, suddenly, the back of her neck prickling with the unease of being watched. But you're alone, she told herself sternly. Still, her shoulders tensed and a tingling tickled her spine.
The emotion crashed over her again without warning. She tried to regain control of herself, but sorrow and anger wrestled in her throat. How could she be so paranoid? So weak? So sensitive? Self-hatred welled up inside her.
A pale, worn out, scraggly haired Ravenclaw peered out of the glass. Bella smirked at her pathetic reflection. A shower was in order, she decided.
And yet, on the other hand, she couldn't get the image of Harry out of her head…
Harry, standing in between his best friends and her. Harry, being forced to choose. Harry, not moving, not speaking, not deciding…
It was killing her, not knowing which he would have chosen.
Not you, saida snarky little voice in her head. Why pick you over people he actually cares about?
"But he does care…" she mumbled in a low, thick, detached voice.
He's just curious, the voice told her with vicous pleasure. He doesn't care, he only wants to know your little secret…
The Dark Lord's Daughter clutched her head in anguish.
"Stop it!" She shouted to herself. Her hysteria echoed in the empty bathroom. The words reverberated back to her and she snapped to with a start. Chills rippled down her arms and spine. What was wrong with her?
Violent spasms of emotion shook her. She lashed out at the mirror with her fists. The fact that she could have obliterated the glass with a flick of her wand didn't matter, she wanted the satisfaction of cracking it with her bare hands.
She didn't want to think.
The silence of the bathroom was suddenly very loud in Bella's ears. She zoned in and out of focus, breathing heavily. A sharp pang pricked at her temples. Bella felt herself sink to the floor…she closed her eyes. She felt herself coming back together, the anger ebbing to a dull headache. Only when she became aware of the stiffness in her legs did she stagger to her feet.
Wearily, she turned on the showerhead. She glared at the spew of water with catlike distaste. Although she longed to feel clean again, the liquid was far from inviting. Gritting her teeth she stepped onto the wet tiles.
The blast of hot water made her head ache, but in a good way. She felt the sticky tears rolling away and sighed. Numbly, she tackled her hair with various products until it finally softened. Her mind was mercifully empty as she went through the motions without thought.
Once snug in her crimson bathrobe, Bella remembered the cracked mirror. Guiltily, she retrieved her wand from her discarded school robe's pocket and repaired the glass. Then she turned to leave. As she reached the door, however, something made her look back. A flash of silvery movement had caught her eye…Or, maybe, (and more likely), she just wanted to see her reflection.
The tangles of hair and dirty cheeks had been efficiently washed; her face glowed with a gentle cleanliness. Waves of her hair floated around her cheeks…
She closed her eyes.
The mirror reflected Bella's image perfectly with its newly intact glass, but the Ravenclaw looking back at her was still a broken one.
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Sleep enveloped the Dark Lord's Daughter. She lay motionless, half-covered in sheets. Her pulse had slowed dangerously, leaving her oblivious to the world.
The other girls had long-since abandoned the shadowy dorm. Even Luna had left Bella to slumber in peace…
Hallways with flickering flames and tantalizing doors haunted her. The images replayed themselves over and over in her mind sickeningly. She struggled to regain consciousness, but exhaustion held her back. Only when the sun had sunken back beneath the horizon did Bella's eyes flutter open sleepily. Immediately, she wished they hadn't.
She stirred weakly, feeling her emptiness. This time, it was not an emotional void, but rather a gnawing stomach pain. Her arms trembled as she pushed herself up to a sitting position.
Someone had lit candles, and the flames smeared before her eyes in wet streaks of light. It was a dizzying effect, and she closed her eyes. Breathing heavily, she untangled her legs from the smothering sheets and swung them over the edge of her bed.
"Luna…?" She called meekly. No answer. Her friend had yet to return. This was slightly disturbing for some reason Bella could not identify. But she didn't dwell on it. Peeking through her watery eyes, she slid her feet down to the wooden floorboards. Her toes curled at the cold. With a groan, she forced herself to stand. To her surprise, she felt considerably less groggy once completely vertical.
Bella let her eyes adjust to the dim light. She suddenly noticed how silent the dormitory was, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't want to be alone. Hastily discarding her bathrobe and throwing on some old muggle clothes, she darted into the common room.
The presence of other people was an enormous relief. She sighed to herself and hovered by a group of third-years just to ward off the inexplicable loneliness.
"Bella!" A girl's voice called. The cheery atmosphere of the common room shifted instantly. Every head spun around and stared at the Dark Lord's Daughter. The huddle of third-years turned towards her, bunching together and leaving her isolated. Little gits, she thought grumpily. Paranoia was creeping over her. She searched for the source of the voice.
A pack of girls emerged from the crowd. Rolly, Asha, Kimberly, Michiko and Cherish…Bella's fellow fifth-year Ravenclaws. The only girls missing were Luna and that punk, Roxanne…
Bella took an involuntary step backwards. Although she and the girls got along fine in the dormitory, she hadn't had a conversation deeper than casual small talk with any of them in weeks. These were the "friends" who hadn't taken to the new and improved, honest Bella. What did they want now…?
Rolly, the blonde, cocked her hip haughtily to show it was she who had spoken. Always the leader, that one. Bella restrained herself from rolling her eyes.
"'Eard you've been…ah, involved with Potter." She said loudly.
Shut up, shut up, shut up!!! Bella screamed in her head. If you have to be vicous, can't you do it quietly???
"Well, Rolly," Bella said brightly, hiding her thoughts with experties. "You can't always believe what you hear, can you?"
The blonde's eyes narrowed.
"I 'eard this from a very reliable source." She snarled.
"Well you might want to try veritserium, then," Bella snapped. "Because you're 'reliable source' is lying." Rolly swelled indignantly.
"You calling me a liar?" She growled. Bella winced and held back a groan. This was too cliché for her to stomach. Leaving the accent aside, Rolly could have strolled right out of one of those terrible old American westerns, ten-gallon hat and all.
With a sigh, Bella tossed her hair over her shoulder and settled in for an argument. This was no time for nerves.
"No, Rolly," she said with the disgustingly sweet heir of a kindergarten teacher, "I'm not calling you a liar. I'm suggesting you were misinformed, because I'm not 'involved' with any one, much less Potter."
Rolly shifted her weight, agitated. Her posse of girls chattered softly. Finally, the blonde leaned forward and lowered her voice to a growl.
"Listen, Bella," She spat. "Yer gettin' yerself quite a reputation. An'…well, it just don't look to good for the rest of us Ravenclaws, you 'ear? I mean," She pulled back, raising her voice. "…If you want to go 'round roughhousin with Potter, tha's yer own business. Keep it quiet, because yer just making the res' of us look bad."
Bella felt the heat rushing to her head and blinked, hard. She had to keep calm, keep cool…And most importantly, keep her eyes their natural color. It was bad enough people were noticing the turbulence between Harry and her. The last thing she needed was her lovely red eyes being the new topic of discussion.
She was so focused on not hexing Rolly into oblivion that she didn't absorb the insults now being thrown her way. A steady hiss of whispers and giggles was bubbling up all around her. Her fellow fifth year girls basked in the attention, as the rest of the common room had frozen in silence to watch Bella's torture.
Rolly, in particular was tossing out some exceptionally vulgar terms when Bella felt a sharp tug on her elbow. Instantly, she looked for Luna. Instead, she found Roxanne clutching her arm. Bella's mouth fell open in shock.
Roxanne was the quiet one…In speech, anyways. Her various hair dyes, dark make-up, pendants and clothing spoke for themselves. Loudly. Yet despite her silence, she wasn't cold or stuffy; merely reserved. When she did speak, she was surprisingly sophisticated, clever, and in most cases, sarcastic in the best sense. There was no doubt as to why she was in Ravenclaw. You could practically see the wheels whirring tirelessly in her spiky head. She had the highest marks in a house of supposedly brilliant minds, even higher than Bella. What made her so academically intimating was how effortless she earned her grades.
And now cocky, quirky, punk Roxanne was now digging her black nails protectively into Bella's arm. Her hair was currently black with fuchsia tips, her eyes ringed in eye-liner.
"What-?" Bella questioned. Roxanne ignored her, focused solely on Rolly.
"You'd think the sorting hat would solve these kinds of problems," she sighed flatly.
Rolly wrinkled her nose, taken aback.
"…'Scuse me?"
"Well the whole premise of sorting is to divide Hogwarts' pupils into houses specific to their nature, therefore increasing their chances to excel. Seeing as the house of Ravenclaw is known for its superior intellect, one would assume its members would this image. Tragically, it's not the case."
Rolly paused, and then burst into transparent laughter.
"Are you seriously callin' me stupid?" She chortled. "I'm jus' as much a Ravenclaw as you, lovey."
"That is a matter of opinion." Roxanne's monotone cut through the laughter effortlessly. "And no."
The smiles slipped off Rolly's Cheshire lips.
"No?"
"No. I am not calling you stupid." Roxanne said stonily. "I am pointing out that your image suggests otherwise." Rolly spluttered indignantly, but Roxanne didn't flinch.
"You amuse yourself with the same catty behavior that all the other girls in all the other houses perform. You make a little scene in the common room to build yourself up by ripping Bella to shreds." Her grip on Bella's arm tightened. "But really, are you accomplishing anything here? Are you finding the cure to dragon pox? I don't think so. So why don't you stop worrying about other people giving the house of Ravenclaw a bad name and take a good long look at your own reputation?"
There was a static-charged silence. Then the common room exploded into applause.
Bella felt her legs buckle beneath her in relief. She struggled to remain vertical as the crowd pushed in. Her fellow Ravenclaws were cheering appreciatively, rushing forward to get it on the excitement. Through the clamor, Bella still noticed Luna's absence. Rolly's mouth hung open numbly in defeat.
"You tell her, sweetheart!" A seventh year boy called out. Roxanne shot him a venomous look, but he merely laughed and clapped good-naturedly. Rolling her eyes, she muttered to Bella in a much gentler voice.
"Come on."