Pandora brushed her hair slowly. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was the same girl. Her eyes were the same electric blue. But they lacked the sparkle they had possessed before. Before. The word sounded so ominous, so faraway. She had been a whole new person Before. Now she was someone else.
Someone else that still had some of the same feelings from Before. These feelings made her stomach lurch, as she knew that they would need to disappear, and fast. She brushed her hair again. She had probably been brushing it for over an hour. But she didn't care. It had been two hours since she had returned back to Hogwarts. She knew the last challenge was today. She knew it started soon and that she should be there, in the crowd, watching. But she stood there, brushing her hair, ignoring the nagging tugging at her bones. She wanted to scream, she wanted to tear her hair out at its roots. But she continued to brush.
"Are you ready to go yet?" Viola asked, appearing out of nowhere. Pandora jumped, shocked. "My Merlin, you're jumpy today," she commented.
"I'm good," Pandora answered quickly.
"Well then if you could stop acting like someone cursed your dog, can we leave?" Viola was still irritated about Bridgett. Bridgett hadn't gotten well and it worried Pandora. But she had bigger things to fret about.
"You go ahead, I'll catch up with you later," Pandora said.
"Fine," Viola strutted out without so much as a backwards glance. Pandora sighed. Too many thoughts and emotions were tumbling over one another in the ocean that was currently her mind. She felt exhausted, though she hadn't done much besides brush her hair. She had a feeling that this feeling would last her a while, though.
Finally, she got herself to walk to the stadium. She felt at any moment she would vomit. Her knees were weak and every fiber in her being was bellowing at her to stop, cease walking, turn the hell around and run far, far away. But her movements were mechanical and soon enough she was in the throng of people, casting noise spells and chattering away, waiting for the start of the challenge. She tried to find a seat but so many people surrounded her and she felt as though she were being suffocated. She fought her way out of the crowd, running towards the outside of the stadium. She just needed air.
"Pandora," his voice made her want to weep. Harry peered at her from behind a tent where all of the other champions were presumably waiting. He walked out anyways, entrapping her into a hug. She couldn't breathe. His familiar scent and secure, safe grip made her feel like she was a caged animal.
"Hey," her voice was low, monotone. She knew she was playing a part.
"I haven't seen you," he said quietly, pulling apart to look at her. She avoided his gaze.
"I've been busy," she responded tersely.
"I seeā¦" he looked at her quizzically but didn't call her out on her brevity. A trumpet sounded in the distance.
"You should probably go," she told him, gently. She ached to reach out and pull him close, to beg him not to go out there. The secret she kept was on the tip of her tongue, twisting it and turning it, threatening to slip out. She dug her nails into her palms to stop herself. The events of the past few days were replaying over and over again in her mind though she had sworn herself to secrecy about them. Where did her loyalty lie? She looked at him, so trusting in her, so brave, so honest. And here she was, omitting the truth, keeping something from him that she knew in her heart was not something to keep. If she loved him, she should tell him.
She cleared her throat, opened her mouth. But, did she love him? Was this love? She hadn't known him that long; that was true. But he consumed every thought she had. He made her feel things she hadn't known were possible to feel. He showed her the light in all of the darkness that had devoured her life. He was her source of joy, of security, of peace. She was more herself with him than she had ever been. His kisses were her drug, his touch her addiction. He made her feel like she could do anything, be anyone.
But she couldn't be his. And that was when she realized, it didn't matter whether or not she loved him. What mattered was that she could not love him. So instead of telling him the words she wished more than anything she could say, she kissed him. He kissed her back, putting his all into it.
"I'll see you later," he told her as she silently told him goodbye. He reached down to take her hand to bring it to his lips. At the last moment he glanced at her wrist.
"What is this?" He asked, reaching to pull up her sleeve.
"Just a bruise," she responded quickly, yanking her arm back. "I banged my arm while trying to make too many potions at once."
"My free elf, always overworking yourself," he chuckled. Her heart hurt.
"You should go," she told him again, her voice rising with panic. She needed him to leave now before she broke down. He nodded silently and kissed her again. And then he left. She watched him walk away. Right before he entered the tent, he looked back at her. His eyes twinkled as he grinned at her. He waved, then mouthed, I'll see you after. Her throat was so dry and she knew her voice would crack if she tried to reply. So she didn't. She raised her good arm, the one not blemished, and waved. When he retreated back into the tent, she turned around to face away. She then pulled up her sleeve and gazed down at the "bruise". She shuddered with horror as her eyes traced the familiar etchings, the criss-cross of black stain that was the Dark Mark.
