Hello! I got too excited with the last chapter and just had to get another one out this weekend!
Side note, I have been thinking about a possible Fred x OC Neville's sister story so if you have a desire to read that, or any ideas, let me know!
'Do it' the voice whispered in her ear. 'Kill them and be free'
Malfoy whimpered at her feet, begging, pleading, calling her by name.
He'd only ever called her half-blood.
She raised her wand 'Avada Kedavra'
Green engulfed the blonde boy, and he fell to the floor, stiff as a board, still and quiet.
She still didn't feel at peace.
Violet woke with a start and flinched as the green she'd seen in her head, hung above her in deep velvet fabric. Her subconscious was getting less and less cryptic with its messaging, and although she appreciated that it no longer kept her guessing, its agenda was too on the nose.
She looked forward to the week ahead as she got dressed Monday morning. Classes were canceled Tuesday due to the tournament, and again on Thursday for some announcement with each house so her stress level when it came to homework, was at an all-time low.
The common room was a little busier than normal as she walked through. Malfoy and a couple of others were handing out buttons that said 'Potter stinks' by the door. She'd completely forgotten that the poor kid was going to have to fight a dragon tomorrow. As if he hasn't been through enough in his fourteen years. Oh well, she thought, at least on Malfoy's list of enemies, she would always come after him.
She was in no mood to deal with the sinister blonde this morning so she hung by the dormitory door until a large group headed towards the common room entrance. She hid in their midst and successfully escaped without accepting a stupid button.
George was already at their table when she walked into potions and he looked so uncharacteristically peaceful that she contemplated running up and scaring him but decided against it.
"Good morning," she said, sitting down and scooting up to the table.
"Morning," he nodded before returning to whatever he was scribbling in his notebook. His silence was unnerving, usually, he was much more of a morning person. Was he still upset at her?
"Did you get to see Charlie again over the weekend," she asked, trying to start a conversation.
He looked up at her and produced a weak smile. "Yeah, we played a bit of Quidditch on Sunday."
Bloody hell, of course, the one thing she couldn't hold a conversation about. "Fun…um, remind me what position you play."
He smiled fully and finally closed his notebook, giving her his full attention. "I'm a beater."
"And they do what, exactly?"
"Violet, you cannot be serious," he sighed.
She nodded her head and held his gaze.
His mouth dropped open. "I'm the one with the bloody bat!"
She squinted amusingly at his exasperation and tried to remember what they needed bats for.
"Oh right, yes. To hit the ball erm…into the goal?"
His eyes widened further. "To hit bludgers at the other team! How do you not know that? I swear I've seen you at a game before."
She giggled. "Well I go sometimes but I don't really pay attention."
"Clearly!"
"There's just so much going on!"
"Nonsense, there are only four balls!"
"That's significantly more than almost every muggle sport," she said, tapping his chest in jest.
He wriggled his eyebrows and gestured down to his relaxed posture.
"You don't fool me," he said, with a smirk. "I think you get distracted by something else.
"What are you on about?"
"No shame in loving a man in uniform," he giggled, flexing his other arm. "I don't blame you for being unable to focus on the game because you can't keep your eyes off me."
"In your dreams," she cooed, curtly aware that George's arm had slung over her chair, and his hand was absentmindedly massaging her shoulder. If they ever did get a chance to date, she'd have to get used to his obvious preference for PDA.
His smile broadened and he shot her a wink. "You always are."
Her mouth was suddenly too dry to speak. His hand moved from her shoulder and twirled a strand of hair next to her face, letting his knuckle caress her cheek. His eyes were especially soft and warm this morning and his gaze practically melted her. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be a glimmer of lingering disdain from their tense altercation a few days ago.
"Oh really?"
"Yes," he cooed, tucking her hair behind her ear and cupping her cheek. "How could I dream of anything else?"
"George, you're supposed to dream of things that you don't have in reality," she whispered teasingly, absentmindedly dropping a hand onto his thigh.
"So I have you, do I?"
His tone stirred a heatwave of butterflies in her chest. She glanced over to his own loose strands of hair for a moment, wanting to caress him, pull him close, and drown in cinnamon but she accidentally met eyes with Adrian who was watching them with a scrunched face over George's shoulder.
Her eyes went wide. Fuck. He'd probably been watching the whole time. He'd seen her smile, giggle, and blush like a stupid school girl.
She slapped George's hand away in an instant and panicked for something to say. "Sorry um…that tickled."
He furrowed his brow and eyed her in shock but she looked away before he could say anything. Thankfully, not a second later, Snape burst into the room and began a lecture on memory potions.
George didn't look at her, or try to write on her notes, or even brush his leg against hers for the remainder of the class. He just sat and sulked, but that was the least of her worries.
Adrian had seen it.
He'd seen her canoodling with George in broad daylight, in the middle of class, without a care in the world. How could she have been so stupid? She groaned silently and tried to ease the nerves manifesting in her stomach with tempered breathing.
As suspected, she received the silent treatment after class and George stalked off with Lee in a huff.
Great, she thought, another thing for her to apologize for.
He was growing impatient at her resistance, and she couldn't blame him. She half hoped that he would be the one to screw up next so she could cut it off clean. Or maybe this had been the last straw and he would tell her that he couldn't do it anymore. It would hurt, but at least this torturous cycle of secrets and tension would end.
She ignored her nerves for the rest of the day and focused on reading the 1981 book instead. She was long overdue for some solid investigating and honestly, it felt better to worry about Death Eaters than George at the moment.
Hours after Sadie had gone to bed, she was still flipping through articles, stopping now and then to write down a new name to cross-reference with Hogwarts students later. She was a little surprised to see how many times Moody came up in photos, and at trials. He'd certainly put a target on his back over the years seeing as it seemed that half the cells in Azkaban were filled because of him.
A little after midnight, she finally closed the book and went to sleep, excited to see the dragons again tomorrow.
Sadie woke her up around 8 and they hurried to get dressed and stop for breakfast quickly before making the long trek up to the stadium. They decided to match again, with black jeans, sweaters, and corduroy jackets, giggling the entire way out of the dungeon.
On the ascent, she decided to just have one good day with Sadie, without worrying about George or Death Eaters or anything. She would let herself be distracted by an entire day off.
They grabbed a quick bite, joined arms, and marched off down the path with the rest of the students trickling out towards the tournament.
"I think they're way overrated," she said to a disgruntled Sadie.
"Listen, I don't often think that you're wrong, but you are absolutely wrong," she fumed.
Violet rolled her eyes. "They're like any other boot! You've just been brainwashed!"
"Not true! They last a lifetime! I will have these shoes until I die. Actually after, because I want you to bury me in them!"
"But at what cost?" She retorted, shaking Sadies shoulder. "You were limping for a month trying to break them in! Doc Martens are a danger to society."
"Especially when I wear them!" Sadie exclaimed, trying to trip Violet by stepping on her toes. They giggled and roughhoused through the trees, ignoring rolled eyes and annoyed looks from those around them.
"Do you think I could've beaten a dragon Vi," Sadie mused as they found their seats in the small coliseum overlooking a rocky pit below.
"Sadie," she said flatly, raising her eyebrows.
"I'm serious! Give me your honest answer, hold no bars. I promise I can take it."
"I think the dragon would've taken one look at you, and ran the other way," she cooed.
Sadie smiled and wrapped an arm around her, squealing in delight. "You're just telling me what I want to hear!"
She giggled and let Sadie talk her ear off a little more about how she would be a much better champion than Cedric and began searching the crowd, promising herself that she wasn't looking for red hair.
The professor's box was across from them, but she wasn't necessarily interested in what teachers had come down, so she looked over Sadie's shoulder, towards the other part of the student section. The Gryffindors were seated a few feet away but she could only make out Ginny and Ron standing anxiously, rightfully nervous for Potter.
She turned around and surveyed the other side of their row which was full of Durmstrang's, craning her neck further to see all of Beauxbatons on the other side of them. The twins were nowhere to be seen but she stopped her frantic search and turned back to Sadie. If they were anywhere behind her, surely they could see her making a fool of herself by looking around for them.
A safety warning from a tournament official boomed over the chattering crowd. It lasted a few moments before a cannon fired a few feet away and ripped everyone's attention towards the pit where an official was placing a golden egg in the middle, and Charlie Weasley was towing in a massive dragon.
She stood and hung over the railing to watch the large redhead manhandle a chain around the beast's neck, securing it to the ground before running off with his comrades as the charm keeping the dragon from moving was released. Before exiting fully, she watched Charlie raise an arm to the crowd, and followed his line of sight. There they were. They stood next to Hermione, Ginny, and Ron, all of a sudden, with huge boxes around their necks. She couldn't make out what they were for and turned back to the dragon before either could look up and see her watching.
Diggory was up first and the Hogwarts crowd chanted his name with a fervor that shook the wooden stands. As she had suspected, Cedric did not use might or strength to take down his dragon. He cleverly transfigured a rock into a dog to distract it and then some blinding charm to contain the beast, just before he finally made it to the egg. Even though he wasn't their top choice, she and Sadie jumped up and down and cheered along with the rest of the crowd.
Krum followed and went for a more direct approach. Sadie roared louder than almost all the Durmstrang's at him when he successfully caught the dragon in the eye with a hex and lunged for the egg. It was neither elegant nor clever but she had to commend him for bravery and sheer dumb luck. Despite Charlie's promise to not put the monster in harm's way, she suspected that the hex had in fact hurt the creature and glanced worryingly at Ginny who seemed to be too busy talking to her friends to notice.
The next dragon entered the arena and she couldn't help but turn to look at George. Its green scales brought her right back to that day in the forest and even though the wizard didn't notice her, she felt her cheeks redden. It did make sense though, she thought, turning back to watch Fleur enter the arena, the most beautiful dragon against the most beautiful opponent
She was on pins and needles during the entirety of the magnificent performance. Fleur managed to put the beast into a sleeping trance, to easily evade the fire from its snores and grab her egg in record time. She stood with the rest of the French witches to give her a standing ovation and ignored petered looks from the other houses.
Charlie quickly dragged the very last dragon into the pit and the crowd gasped as it reared its massive head and roared into the sky. It was quite unfair that the youngest and most unprepared, got the biggest dragon. She watched most of Potters attempt from behind her fingers and couldn't bring herself to sit down once, until he successfully grabbed the egg after flying around like a maniac for nearly 15 minutes, scaring them all half to death. The crowd's cheers were more in relief than in celebration but she joined along anyway and got Hermione's attention to shoot her a supportive thumbs-up as she looked like she'd been on an intense emotional roller coaster.
"Vi, I'm gonna walk back with Anastas, do you wanna tag along," Sadie asked as the tall Bulgarian came up behind her.
"No that's alright, you two go on ahead," she said. "Take care of her!"
Anastas shot her a shy smile and hooked his arm around Sadie's waist as she immediately began walking him through her reactions to what had just happened. It was nice to see her with someone so attentive, and willing to listen.
She glanced down at the rocky pit one last time to watch Charlie pick up the remaining real dragon eggs in the nest, and then turned to walk down the winding stairs, and back onto the trail.
It was well past lunch now and most other students had left as soon as Potter grabbed the egg, so the trail was mostly empty except for a few stragglers. The walk back was peaceful and easy as the afternoon sun cascaded over the red and orange trees but ultimately couldn't penetrate the cool autumn breeze. Cheers from Gryffindors echoed throughout campus as Harry had somehow managed to pull of getting first place. She wove through the huge crowd in the courtyard and practically sprinted to the library, knowing that it would be empty for the rest of the day.
She was right, of course, Madam Pince hadn't even lit any candles or fireplaces, as she probably expected that most Hogwarts students had actual lives outside to being in the library, especially on a day off. She snuggled into her chair and opened a muggle book from her bag, breathing in the peace deeply.
She escaped briefly for dinner but didn't stay in the Great Hall long. Students were practically rabid with excitement from the events of the day. The hall was buzzing, and trashed with various 'Potter stinks' badges, rightfully discarded, along with other cheering materials.
The book her mother had sent was, unfortunately, a love story. Normally, she devoured any and all material on the subject but now that she could feel the same pining described in dramatics, it just made her heartache.
She paused her book briefly to sit at the window and watch the sunset when the heliotrope hue darkened the alcove. It was nothing remarkable, as she had come to prefer pink and orange, over purple and blue, but it would suffice.
The sound of the large wooden doors creaking open and then slamming closed tore her gaze from the dwindling day outside.
Probably Pince back from the festivities, she thought, listening to the single set of footsteps. She doubted the librarian would have any objections to her being there but hoped that she wouldn't come and fuss over her due to the last time she found her in the library.
Sadly, she had no such luck.
Footsteps moved quickly down the center aisle. Her ears perked a little at their irregularity and speed. They weren't prim and sharp like Madam Pince's, but rather, uneven and heavy. The stomping was a little frightening, especially since she knew she was completely alone among the books. She stood up from the window sill, ready to yell at whoever was coming to bother her, and flinched when a large body moved quickly directly at her.
"For fucks sake, George!" She bellowed at the redhead meandering around the corner. He took big stumbling steps and had a stupid grin on his face. "You scared me half to death!"
He giggled and sauntered over to her. "Shhhh Violet, this is the library."
"No shit, genius."
"Shhhhhh!"
"What are you doing?"
He stumbled a little on the carpet. "Pretty, pretty Violet."
His mannerisms seemed off. Usually, he walked everywhere like he was on a mission but now, he looked almost oblivious to his surroundings and without a care in the world. His face was more flushed than normal, and even in the light of the fire, she could tell he was bight red. She widened her eyes as fumbled with his scarf.
"Are you drunk?"
He slumped sideways into the chair next to the window and looked up at her. "I'm only tipsy."
Definitely tipsy.
He slurred the few words as he spoke and let his head roll back and forth against the arm of the chair. It was rather fascinating to watch him be so intoxicated. The wheels in his head weren't spinning at all, and very non-threatening incognizant wide eyes replaced his calculated stare.
She squinted a little, trying to gauge his level of awareness. How had he made it down the moving stairs drunk? And why had he come here? It was unbelievable that Fred had let his brother wander around the castle all by himself like this. If Snape would've caught him, Gryffindor would've lost nearly all their house points, but she'd chastise him for that later.
"What are you doing here?" She asked.
He closed his eyes and finally stopped moving. "Come closer, I can't hear you."
"Liar," she huffed. "Just tell me."
He furrowed his brow and dramatically brought a hand up to his ear. "Violet, please, you need to come closer.
She rolled her eyes. He'd made it all the way down here just to what? Find her? She doubted that it was as simple as that but stepped forward and sat on the ottoman in front of the chair. She felt her heartbeat in her fingertips and looked him cooly in the face. His eyes were half-lidded like he was on the verge of falling asleep but as soon as they made eye contact, he was wide awake.
"What are you doing here," she asked again, more dreamily this time, like she couldn't believe it was him who she was looking at. She blamed the tone on her romance novel.
His hand dropped from his ear and onto her lap. A shiver ran down her spine as his warm hand made contact with her thigh. Her words seemed to fall on deaf ears as he turned to the window and stared blankly.
The cogs were turning again.
She was desperate to know what he was thinking. Their choice words over the last few weeks had created a tension that she didn't know what to do with.
She jumped slightly as he turned to her after a while and tangled his fingers in her hair, beckoning her closer. He pulled her in wordlessly with desperate eyes and a serious expression. She didn't resist and placed a sweet peck on his puckered lips. He lingered for a moment longer, clearly wanting more but it didn't feel right in his current state so she kissed the tip of his nose instead and let him slouch back onto the chair and drop his hand back to her leg. He stared silently out the window for a moment and then seemed to decide something.
"Why do you always look like you regret it?" He whispered, not looking at her.
The question punched her in the gut and she instantly broke out into a cold sweat.
"Regret what," she mumbled, eyeing him with concern.
Did he want to do this now? In his particularly precarious state? His hand gripped her leg in a punishing hold and he looked up at her. His sudden sadness almost made him look sober.
"After we kiss," he whispered again. "You always look like you wish you hadn't done it."
His words cut deep. She wouldn't pretend not to understand what he was talking about, but she'd thought that she was doing a better job at hiding her nerves.
"George… I don't," she spoke through the painful lump forming in her throat, threatening tears. "I never regret it."
He shook his head. "You don't need to lie, Vi. I can see it," he said, raising his hand to point at the space between her eyebrows. "Right there."
She flinched slightly as he spat the words out. Whatever he was thinking about before, he'd clearly made his mind up about. The anger and hostility weren't unwarranted but they were unexpected.
"I'm not lying," she stammered. "I promise, it isn't regret, it's just —"
"Just what?"
"Can we please not do this now. You're drunk, let me walk you back."
"I'm not drunk," he stated.
"I beg to differ," she countered.
"I'm not," he said forcefully, abandoning all carelessness that whatever amount of alcohol had given him.
He swung his legs off of the arm of the chair and faced forward, towering over her, even sitting, and yanked the ottoman closer so that she sat huddled between his legs. The force knocked a gasp out of her. His eyes were ablaze. Any last hope that he'd drop the conversation vanished.
"I'm not drunk, I'm just…it's just erm…" he stuttered angrily.
"George…" she begged.
"No…I read it….I just can't remember…"
George brought his forehead down to hers and mouthed words silently, trying to get something off of his chest. She tried to lean out from underneath him but his hands moved to her waist, holding her in place.
"It's like Westley!" He finally exclaimed, shaking her torso slightly with his revelation.
"What?
"It's just like Westley and Buttercup! He was a farm boy but she didn't care!"
She felt like the Hogwarts Express was barreling through her chest. He'd read her book? It made sense. Ginny was a smart girl, there no way it took her over a month to read a 500-page book. She must have lent it to him after.
He continued. "Even when she thought that he was a killer pirate, she didn't care!"
"George I…I don't understand."
He brought his face into his hands, forcing her to rest her chin on top of his head because of their proximity.
The alcohol on his breath made him smell more like cinnamon than usual. She wasn't surprised that the Gryffindors had a secret stash of fire whiskey for celebrations like today but he should've just stayed in his red and gold tower, away from her, away from this conversation. They could've kept it up for at least another month or so but his alcohol-induced honesty made it clear that he was fed up with their arrangement. He was sensitive, and sweet, and felt things deeply. She was a fool for ever thinking he could play by the cold and secretive rules that she'd laid out.
"Please, let's not do this," she pleaded into his hair, desperate to steer them back to safety.
He chuckled and shook his head.
She worked hard to blink back tears. "Please."
"That's exactly the problem Vi. You don't want to do this."
This was it. The bubble was about to burst. She knew deep down that she couldn't keep stringing him along. She was well aware of the choices going forward but it seemed like he'd already made it for the both of them.
If only they had more time.
"You already know how I feel," she whispered. "Isn't that enough?"
He lifted his head so quickly that she almost fell on the floor. He held her up with an arm around the waist and pulled her in close; a reverse of how they'd been the last time she'd been thinking about running away from him on this chair.
"I know," he breathed lowly. It almost sounded like a command. His voice was rough and low from a long morning of yelling over dragons. The unusual serious, commanding aura made her knees weak.
She simply nodded in agreement, afraid that any more words would set him off.
"And you know how I feel about you," his voice was like gravel as he leaned in closer, brushing his nose past hers.
His lips crashed onto hers before she could take a breath. He held her in an unyielding grip, lips unmoving. She melted into him effortlessly and parted her lips, breathing him in, memorizing how his tongue felt against hers.
If it was the last time, she would remember it well.
He pressed into her deeply, gorging himself on her taste. The sounds coming from his chest didn't sound like moans, but rather, animalistic growls, low and deep, rumbling in warning. She was helpless against his grip and let out breathy sighs as he took what he needed.
Not a second later, he pulled away.
She opened her eyes and met a cold, hard expression.
"But you won't do that out there…will you?"
A tear fell against her cheek before she could stop it. He already knew the answer but he wanted to hear it. This time it would be concrete, she knew it.
She shook her head. Her mouth was too dry to speak.
The darkness she'd once craved flashed over him. Being the source of his anger once felt triumphant and now it left her empty and ashamed.
He stood up without another word.
No, no, no. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She bit back a sob and found her voice before he stepped into the aisle.
"George, please!" Her tears fell rapidly.
He whipped around tears of his own on his cheeks.
"Please, what?" His voice broke with the shout. It ricocheted off the empty alcove and vibrated a wave of anger deep within her. She'd told him her choice weeks ago and now he wanted to demand that she make a completely different one?
"You aren't being fair! I told you the day you kissed me that I didn't want anyone to know! But you still did it anyway, again and again," she bellowed angrily.
"You kissed me back!"
"Because I thought you understood."
He stared at her, practically shaking with anger and scoffed.
"Did you really think that I was just going to change my mind," she yelled.
He searched her face like he couldn't remember who she was, and then his expression snapped into a deeper anger.
"What do you want me to do, Vi? Touch you in secret and then play pretend like I don't even know you during the day?"
"Yes! Why can't that be enough for you," she bellowed. He'd been sympathetic to her feelings last week and now he couldn't do it anymore? Imagine how she felt!
"Because I hate watching you frantically look around every time we are together to make sure no one is watching! I hate feeling you flinch away from me! I'm not ashamed of you Violet, or my feelings!"
"Neither am I!"
"Yes you are! You are so ashamed that you'd rather let Malfoy and the rest of them control what you do, rather than just be with me!"
"No that's— that's just—you just… you don't understand," she stuttered angrily. His analysis was acute and accurate, but hurtful none the less.
"So help me to understand!"
He was standing in front of her, begging, and in tears but she just couldn't. She would rather that he hate her for this, than know the truth. At least this way, he might be able to forgive her. At least this wouldn't change how he looked at her. He would think that she was selfish, or unfeeling, but at least when he looked at her, he wouldn't see a monster.
If bravery was his fatal flaw, self-preservation was hers.
"I can't," she choked out.
"Then neither can I."
He stared at her in contempt. Hurt and anger swirled on his face, warping his expression into something she'd never seen. She was embarrassed for crying in front of him but with each tear that fell onto her cheek, his hard exterior seemed to melt away. His lips parted and his expression softened as she choked out a sob. She nearly ran past him and away from this awful encounter but he took a step closer.
"Violet," he said softly.
She put her face in her hands and let her tears fall, praying that when she looked back up again, he'd be gone. He didn't move and neither did she, her sniffles the only thing breaking the silence between them.
It wasn't fair that it had to be this way but in the end, it was she who had drawn hard lines in the sand and just expected him to be ok with it. She knew then, what she knew now, that the stipulation with such little explanation was utterly unbearable for anyone. Especially someone as smart as George.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you after the train, you know," he whispered. The change in tone took her by surprise.
"I spent five years never speaking a word to you and then out of nowhere, I couldn't turn a fucking corner without seeing you," he continued.
His face was broken and serious when she looked up. As the words washed over her, she knew that this was going to hurt like hell. She wanted so badly to interrupt and tell him how she felt, to the furthest extent but the lump in her throat wouldn't let her speak. So she just stared; startled and silent.
"You outsmarted me, made me feel like an ass, and pissed me off but I couldn't even sleep without seeing your smug, know-it-all face," his voice broke slightly.
He ran a hand roughly through his hair and took another step towards her, still keeping her about a foot away.
"And then suddenly I felt all of these strange things like….like actually being excited for every stupid potions lecture and every pointless charms lesson. It didn't make sense because I hate classes…I hate going to classes — I can barely stand them without some prank to pass the time and then out of nowhere, I could hardly wait to sit at a desk for hours on end, can you believe that?"
He chuckled slightly and stared down at his shoes.
"I really couldn't, and then I realized…that it was you, I was just excited to be around you."
"Don't…" she begged but he silenced her with a sorrowful glare.
"From the very first moment we spoke of the train, you saw me — really saw me. The way you looked at me, I mean, I could tell you hated me, which was entirely mutual by the way…but you just hated me, specifically me."
His voice broke at the admission. Truthfully, she had never really hated him and despised that he'd ever thought so.
"What I'm trying to say, Vi is that I've been lumped in with Fred my entire life, happily at that, but it was only because I'd never had anyone see me before. I'd never had anyone look at me the way that you looked at me. The way that you always look at me. Even now, it takes my breath away."
He stopped for a moment and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She held her breath as he paused with his hand against her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb to wipe a tear away.
"Every time I talked to you after that, I felt more and more like myself. It felt like… like I had been waiting… waiting for you to come along and pull it out of me. And now I quite like who I am—who I get to be…when I'm with you."
"You're making it worse," she croaked out despite the anguish in her chest.
He cleared his throat, quelling the last of his tears.
"I know but you have to know why I can't, Violet."
He waited for her to push him away further but she stayed quiet.
"I wish I could do this, for you, but I can't. I just can't be the best version of myself in secret. I want you with me always and it'll hurt too much to hide it. I am yours but…I want you to be mine, as well."
She found herself silently gasping for breath. She'd long suspected it but he'd just confirmed that he wasn't just using her to pass the time or flirting for boredom's sake. It was as real for him as it was for her, and now it was ruined.
"I…George… I —"
"I know," he whispered.
He didn't wait for a response, because deep down he probably knew that it didn't change the circumstance of whatever was holding her back.
"Have a good night, Vi."
He kissed her forehead and then walked away without giving her a second glance.
I want you to be mine.
Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.
The word bounced in her head, down into her chest, ricocheting off of her ribs, until it punctured a lung. She let out a shaking sob and fell back into the chair.
I want you with me always…
The fire in her chest lapped at her throat. No cry or sob could extinguish it but she tried over and over until the library doors opened again and she heard Madam Pince's heels click into her office.
She swallowed the rest of her cries with a hand cupped over her mouth and compartmentalized the longing sadness, wiped away her tears, and pulled herself together for the short trek back to the dungeon.
Tears started falling as soon as she made it back into her room. Sadie was already asleep so she silently wept into her pillow.
It had never even begun and yet, it was over.
It was over.
And it was her fault.