'You make me insane' - Myah Marie, I'm Insane

She creeps into my bed, late at night, as I pretend to be asleep.

Two minutes later and she is sprawled over me as usual, breathing deeply, though tonight I still lie awake, tense, angry and worried as I carefully slip out from under her arm and stretch out at the edge of the bed.

Lysander's words from a few hours ago resound through my head as I stare at the blue splodge of paint on the ceiling of my bed.

'She's got something in her past that she's not telling us: one day it's going to catch up with her, and when it does, it's not going to be pretty.'

I shift over to stare at Ria, face relaxed and peaceful as she sleeps, with her soft hair splashed across the pillow and her long limbs splayed across the bed.

Looking at her like this; soft and innocent, it's difficult to imagine that she could be hiding anything dangerous.

It takes me a few hours to get to sleep.

Screams rent the air, and black-and-silver hair crumples across my face.

"Ri? Ri, wake up!"

The breath leaves me in a whoosh as something hits my stomach as my girlfriend thrashes around screaming, her eyes tightly closed, and her face drawn in terror – an expression which scares the shit out of me.

"Ria, wake up!" I scream at her, terrified.

I jump on top of her, struggling to pin down her flailing arms, when the bed-curtains are wrenched open behind me, and I am roughly pushed to the side as Scor pulls Ria's arm over his shoulder and drags her from the room, still screaming.

Fuck.

As Thompson and Levitt stare at me in sleepy confusion, I collapse back down onto my empty bed in shock, my gaze landing on the clock in the shape of breasts on the table next to my head. 02:00 - May 21st. Great way to start our three month anniversary.

And I'm ashamed to say that all the emotions of the previous day catch up to me as I slam the bed-curtains closed again, pull my raspberry-and-sandalwood scented pillow over my face and cry. I cry for Ria, for Scor (because whatever she's going through will undoubtedly involve him too) and for myself, because Lysander was right, as usual.

The next morning Scor doesn't wake me up, so I ended up rolling out of bed at 8:45 and sprinting for the shower in an effort to get to breakfast before classes start.

Instead, I stop short in the common room at the sight of Scor and Ria, tucked up together in an armchair in front of the fire.

"Al?" Ria spots me immediately and uncurls herself from Scor's arms slowly, standing up and making her way over to me. Her face is pale, and her school uniform is neat, as if she actually spent time dressing herself for once.

"Honey, I'm - "

"What happened last night?" I'm not in the mood for her customary evasions.

Her jaw clenches but she reaches out to me. "Al, I wish I could - "

"Cut the bullshit, Ria. What's so bad that you can't tell us? Why don't you trust us?" I reject her outstretched hands. "Fuck it, why can't you trust me? I watched you scream last night and I couldn't do a thing about it but maybe I could help if you'd just fucking tell me what's wrong."

My girlfriend straightens up, eyes hardening, then almost immediately slumps again, mask crumbling to reveal a pained expression. "I'm sorry."

I storm out of the portrait hole.

Ria and I don't argue. I swear at Scor, regularly yell at Rose, and even Lysander's been frustrated with me before, but before we started dating, Ria and I never argued.

Maybe because even though she can be a bitch, I've always loved that side of her, and although I was perpetually snubbing people and breaking hearts, she'd just laugh and say she was impressed at my continued degradation.

I thought this accepting of each other's faults was what made us great as a couple, but I never accounted for this.

I punch a slashed wall in a seventh floor corridor.

Scenes play through my head as pain courses through my hand. Ria dancing in the Hog's Head on Muggle Music Night; our first kiss as I held her above me on her birthday; how her hair shone and she beamed ridiculously wide when I told her I was in love with her; her kisses down my chest every night in bed; the way her eyes sparkled when she played on my jealousy in that bar in Camden; her laugh all day, every day; the complete relief I felt when I realised she wasn't hurt on the Quidditch Pitch; the drop in my chest when she lied to me about the key on her bracelet; the heart-constricting worry I felt when her face went pale when she got that letter yesterday; the terror that overwhelmed me when she woke me up screaming yesterday night.

I've broken up with so many people; the fact that 'Al, you don't care about anyone but yourself' (and Emma, of course), has been screamed at me too many times to count. And yet here I am: it fucks with my mind just how I much I love Ria. So much that she knows everything about me, from the way I like my tea to my ridiculous family issues, but now I realise that even after all the years she's been my best mate, I only know what she's allowed me to know about her.

Lysander was right. Lysander is always right. Whatever she's hiding is hurting her, hurting Scor and goddamn it it's hurting me too. I'm angry: angry and terrified because after all my previous apathy, I care too much.

I love her, and I'm in love with her, but right now I hate it because it's killing me.

Too much. Too much. I can't take this.

"Al? Are you okay?" Betsy Addams comes into focus, standing across the corridor, looking worriedly at me, blonde hair tussled and uniform haphazard as she pauses in her sprint from Gryffindor Tower to her first class.

Without thinking twice, I launch myself at her and feel her books tumble to the floor, her hands clenching in my hair as I kiss her hard.

I lose myself in the familiar, comforting rush of adrenaline I get from the feel of lips on mine and a tongue against mine as I rip away her shirt buttons and she runs her hands over my chest. But the body against mine is curvy not slim, the lips against mine are full and submissive not thin and fighting, the fingers over my abs are short and rough not slender and soft, and the scent surrounding me is not raspberries and sandalwood.

This is wrong.

"Al?"

I rip away from Betsy violently, leaving her staggering, before I register my name being spoken.

Ria leans against the wall, arms crossed and dark eyes glittering dangerously.

Everything freezes.

"Am I too early for my Transfiguration tutoring?"

"Ri, it's not what it - " The age-old words tumble from my lips as I struggle to accept just how much I've fucked up.

Betsy, in an unusual show of sense, grabs her books and sprints away as Ria raises a thin eyebrow.

"Not what it looks like? I'd say this is exactly what it looks like: you're sick of kissing just one girl for three months, so you decided to shack up with Betsy again like the slut you are. And here I was thinking that you'd changed."

This hits me hard, and every bit of guilt and sorrow I was feeling flips straight into all my anger.

"Maybe if you were a better girlfriend and weren't so fucking complicated all the time I wouldn't have to go to someone else!"

She's angry now.

"You fucking bastard! You think you're just so perfect, do you?"

"If you're so pissed at me, why don't you fuck off back to James?" I yell, finally letting the jealousy out.

"Maybe I will!" She screams. "Because do you think James would have done this, or your dad, or even your beloved Lily? NO! You say you don't want to be like them, but you do. And the fucking truth is that you're nothing like them. They're brave and selfless and kind and you're a goddamn prick. You'll never be a Potter."

That fucking hurts.

"And what about your family?" I scream back, shouting what I know will hurt her like she's hurt me. "I know I'm a bastard; at least I don't act like something I'm not! You'll always be a Black and deep down I think you know that you're just the same as the rest of your evil little family. You act so bloody superior to Lucien but it's time you accepted that you're just as bitchy and mean as him."

Ria's hands clench into fists and for a second I think she's going to punch me. "Fuck you, Al." She turns and storms away.

"ARGH!" I turn and smash my fist into the wall again.

It hits me an hour later, in the Hospital Wing. The burning anger at every issue I've ever confessed to her warped and thrown back in my face leaves me in a slow seep of Calming Potion and Skelegro through my veins.

The enormity of what's just happened creeps up on me with a swoop of my stomach and a pricking behind my eyelids and for the second time today, I pull a pillow over my face and cry. And this time I'm not afraid to admit it, because this time, I've well and truly fucked things up.

Lysander, Emma and Rose come to find me after the first lesson. I tell them everything.

Rose slaps me and runs out in search of Ria and Scor. Good luck to her in finding them when they don't want to be found.

Emma cries but stays for as long as she can, holding my unbandaged hand tightly because she's Emma and she knows I need her.

Lysander gives me a speech on how badly I fucked up, as if I don't already know, and then hugs me. Madam Lovelle lets him miss his next lesson and makes up the bed next to mine for him, on which he sits and reads for an hour.

I'm glad of the silent company, and he knows it.

When the bell rings for our third lesson, he stands and leaves without a word.

"Al?"

I look up. It's not her. Not that I wanted it to be; the wound's still much too fresh.

Rose walks straight up to my bed and gets in next to me like she used to do when we were little and we were having a sleepover at my house, saying that my bed was the softest in the house and it was cruel of my parents to ask her to sleep in one of the hard beds in the guest rooms.

And the truth is that Teddy is cool, Dom is relatable (from the little I know of her), Fred is funny, and Lily is great, but however much we fight, Rose has always been the one in my family whom I'm closest to.

"Scor and Ria haven't been in lessons all day." She says, after a few minutes of staring at the ceiling.

I don't reply.

After another few minutes of staring at the ceiling she again breaks the ceiling. "Cuz, you know you're an idiot, right?"

I sigh. "You couldn't have gotten in one of the other beds?"

She shrugs against the bed. "Swuff, this is the softest one in the whole room."

I crack a smile at that.

She grins and shuffles around to lean off the bed to reach her bag, from which she extracts a bucket of ice cream and a spoon.

I roll my eyes.

She pokes me and nestles the bucket between us, producing her own spoon and taking a big scoop.

"Ice cream is good for heartbreak." She mumbles as the scoop melts in her mouth. "Trust me, I know."

And so I follow her lead.

And fuck, the stupid comfort food, along with Rose's pointless babbling genuinely make me feel a little bit better.

After half the bucket is gone, I swirl my tongue around my spoon and ask her. "So you don't blame me?"

Rose snorts. "Of course I blame you, you slut, but after I slapped you this morning, we had the most boring Transfig lesson in the history of coma-inducing Transfig lessons, which gave me time to think, and I came to the conclusion that yeah, I blame Ria too."

I take another scoop as she continues. "Let's face it, cuz o'mine, we were basically dating the same person. And sure, I knew Scor was keeping a secret, but our relationship isn't like yours. I know he'll tell me if and when he wants to tell me, whereas you had to know now to be able to trust her completely. But she doesn't understand that, or the fact that others hate seeing her upset and genuinely want to help her like Scor does. Until she gets rid of the secrets and lies, I don't think you'll ever be able to trust her enough to have a proper relationship."

I suck the spoon thoughtfully. "Why is it that we always have our best conversations over ice cream or alcohol?"

She shrugs. "Because we either have to be drunk or in need of comfort to not argue?"

I consider this. "When did you get so insightful?"

Rose pokes me with a bony elbow. "Since McGonagall decided to do a ddiflas theory lesson."

"Ddiflas?"

"Boring in Welsh."

"How do you – never mind. I'm just glad you're here."

"Bubby, you're getting emotional. Congratulations, you're slowly improving your EQ."

I groan. "Blame Scorpius bloody Malfoy and all his emotions rubbing off on me."

Rose laughs. "Never. Now focus and help me finish this ice cream before the house elves realise it's missing."

A/N: I'm truly ashamed of how late this chapter is. And I'm sorry.