Readerfaye: Fred is the light in the tunnel right now. And hahaha I agree about the Vanessa thing though. So obvious to me, but she's so blind.
AstarothZyran: Thank you for reviewing! Sorry I couldn't update sooner….it's been a long week. More Cedric in this one for you! Enjoy!
I don't normally do this with any of my chapters, but mental health is important, so I'm going to leave a ***TRIGGER WARNING*** for claustrophobia on this one.
Many of Vanessa's fears are a model of my own, including the claustrophobia, which is why I have such an easy time describing how it feels for her. Writing this chapter was a little intense for me. It was manageable, but I am aware that everyone's triggers and responses are different, so please, if you ARE claustrophobic, proceed with caution at the end of this chapter. I'll leave a note before it gets intense and another once it's *relatively* safe to read, but please still consider yourself when reading anyway.
Take care of yourselves, lovelies. Your mental health matters 3
Chapter Twelve
Nessa hesitated outside of Professor Lupin's office.
This was not likely her best idea. Maybe she shouldn't say anything to him at all about knowing he was a werewolf. He clearly didn't want people to know or he would have mentioned it himself. Except it's not like he would have mentioned it, was it? She'd spent fifteen minutes explaining the prejudices to her own brother when she'd been helping him with his essay. Saying something to any of them about his true nature wasn't likely to be on the top of his list of priorities.
Except it had been bothering her for weeks. Every time he looked at her, she worried that he knew that she knew. It was making her jumpy. She hated secrets. She hated that she'd dug up the kind of information on someone that they didn't want to be known. She hated feeling like she was lying every time she pretended she didn't know.
She was overthinking this. He didn't know she knew. If he did, she was certain he would have said something to her by now. Maybe. And she wasn't keeping a secret. Well, she was, but not admitting to him that she knew what he was seemed more of a kindness than anything. Maybe.
She couldn't do this.
She'd just been turning to leave and rush out of the classroom when the office door opened and Professor Dumbledore was standing on the other side of the door.
Well, so much for that.
"Miss Potter," he said kindly, not appearing at all surprised to see her standing there. Did he know everything that was happening at Hogwarts or was it just a facade? She couldn't tell.
"Nessa," said Professor Lupin in surprise. "Is there something I can help with?"
"Oh, I — er — well, I just — I was just coming to speak with you, but I can come back — sorry for interrupting, I'll just —"
She was rambling. Why couldn't she lie like Tori and the twins?
Professor Dumbledore was smiling down at her kindly, his blue eyes twinkling over his half-moon spectacles.
"Please don't leave on my account," he said sagely. "I was just leaving. Remus, let me know if you hear anything. Good evening to you both."
Nessa watched as he swept from the room with a final smile and exited the classroom.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Nessa?"
She should not have done this. He looked in such good spirits. She should have just gone to the library and distracted herself with a book. Or talking to Cedric. He was surprisingly down-to-earth and he'd been a great help with Transfiguration homework. He wasn't as good as George at the subject, but he knew enough to help her and she was grateful for that. And luckily, he learned fast because his Potions skills were sorely lacking. Even when she could tell he was clearly attracted to her, she didn't mind being around him.
"Nessa?"
She startled.
"Sorry, I — I'm in my head today," she said, looking hesitantly at the door and then sighing heavily. Running out would be suspicious behavior, all things considered. She'd dug her own grave at this point. She stepped into the office and closed the door behind herself, resisting the urge to hug herself with her arms. "I was just hoping to talk to you about — er — about Harry."
He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but waved her to the chair across from his desk and busied himself with making a cup of tea.
"Is he alright?"
"Oh, yeah, no, he's fine," she stuttered. Get it together, Vanessa. "He said you were going to teach him to cast a Patronus. For the dementors."
She was going to lock herself in her dormitory after this. Of course it was for the dementors. What else would a Patronus be for? Maybe this was a nightmare or —
"Yes, we talked about it. He was very concerned about his fall during the match."
"That was the scaredest I've ever been in my life," she whispered honestly.
The memory of it still made her hands shake. Having her Bogart end up being true would have been the worst possible way to begin the year.
"It was certainly frightening to witness," he replied softly, eyeing her kindly. "I'm not an expert at defending against the dementors, but I will do my best to help him."
"Thank you."
He said nothing as he settled back behind his desk and took a sip of his tea. He was eyeing her in interest and waiting for her to continue speaking. She supposed a two minute conversation wasn't likely something someone would have made time to visit a professor's office for. Or she could have just said something to him after class.
She scrambled for something else to say, but he spoke first.
"Have you always taken care of Harry?"
She eyed him strangely. What kind of question was that?
"Yes, I suppose," she said cautiously. "He's my brother."
Her tone suggested that this was the answer to everything. Like it was obvious and there was no answer more acceptable or rational than that. But he was looking at her sadly anyway and she didn't quite understand why.
"And who takes care of you, Vanessa?"
She gaped at him for a moment. The question caught her so off guard that she didn't even have the energy to correct him about her name.
No one had ever asked her that before.
"I — I mean, no one. I don't need someone to take care of me."
It came out more defensively than she would have liked, but she couldn't tell if the question made her want to bristle or cry. He seemed to sense this and smiled at her in placation.
"No, I'm certain that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself," he amended gently. "I only mean that I can imagine how exhausting it must be…to be so devoted to caring for someone else. It's a large sacrifice for any human being to make, let alone someone so young, and I hope that you take time for yourself as well. We only have one life."
She really did not know how to respond to that.
He wasn't entirely wrong — it was a large sacrifice a lot of the time. All of the days she'd missed school to take care of a sick Harry because her Aunt and Uncle couldn't have been bothered. All of the times she'd gotten detention to defend her brother against some school yard bully. All of the summers where she'd pretended not to be hungry so that he could eat her portions as well. All of the sleepless nights praying he was safe and happy and healthy.
But she didn't like thinking of it as a sacrifice. It was just simply the way things were. It was the way things had always been. And it didn't bother her in the slightest, even if she did sometimes wish life could be easier. Even if she did envy the Weasley children and Tori for their childhood. He was her brother and it was her job to worry about him. She wasn't even sure what purpose she had outside of caring for him.
"I'm really fine, Professor," she said firmly.
He looked for a moment like he would press, but he seemed to think better of it anyway. She relaxed a little because she wasn't prepared for this meeting to turn into an impromptu therapy session. She wasn't even sure a licensed professional would be able to help her tease apart all of her emotions and anxieties, let alone a professor she hardly knew.
"Was there something else you wanted to speak with me about?"
Her stomach dropped out. God, what had she been thinking coming down here to talk to him about this? She really should have thought this through. Maybe thought up alternate avenues of conversation in case she chickened out. Because she always chickened out, really, I mean what had she —
"You're a werewolf."
Okaaaaay, that was one way to go about it.
Professor Lupin paled and his hand spasmed in an odd way, knocking over one of the folders that had been resting on his desk. A pile of essays slid out and scattered across the floor. Nessa jumped up to pick them up. Partially because she hated herself for being so abrupt about something so sensitive. Partially because she was certain she'd seen a flash of panic and then anger in his eyes and she needed to think up a way to explain this that didn't make her look like some selfish kid trying to blackmail her teacher.
Honestly, what had she been thinking?
Words to put on her tombstone, perhaps.
"Who have you told?"
Her head snapped up from her place on the floor.
"I — no one," she said in alarm.
"No one."
She could understand his disbelief, considering how inseparable she and Tori were. Or even the twins.
"No one. I swear," she said openly. "And I didn't — I mean, I didn't mean for it to sound so — so harsh? No, that's not really the right word. I just mean that I didn't mean for it to sound like a threat or anything. If that's what you're assuming, I mean. I really don't know what I'm even doing here so…"
Okay, shut up. Please.
She was going to stress herself out.
"How did you find out?"
She hesitated and then sighed heavily. She'd already plunged headfirst into the abyss, so she might as well just keep going.
"I — Harry told me Professor Snape brought you a potion when he was here. Blue smoke, rendered useless with sugar. I put two and two together. And then, you know, you're gone a lot. Tired and sick looking." She cringed. "Sorry, that sounded like an insult. That's not what I meant. I just mean that I saw the signs, y'know. And I — I guess I didn't really want you to — to feel alone. Or — or I don't know, maybe I just wanted to make sure you know I won't say anything to anyone." She hesitated and rolled her eyes at herself. "This seemed like a far better idea in my head, honestly."
He was staring at her as if he'd never seen her before. She busied herself with the papers again. Straightening and re-straightening them before shoving them back into the folder and moving to place them on the desk where they'd been before.
She stared at him a moment because he still hadn't moved. She almost thought he looked like a statue, except she could see his chest moving with each breath he took. She debated just leaving and pretending the conversation hadn't happened at all.
"I apologize, Vanessa, if I've made you uncomfortable or afraid in any way —"
"Afraid?" she said in surprise. "Why would I be — I mean, how could you have made me afraid? Or uncomfortable?"
"People like me —"
"People like you," she said slowly, bristling a little at his resentful tone. "Look, I'm not here because I'm trying to make you feel badly about something you can't control. Nothing about your — er — condition changes anything about what I think of you. You're still a great teacher. And you're taking Wolfsbane Potion, right? So, I mean, it's not like I'm in any kind of danger."
He was staring at her again as if she'd said something that had shocked him. She really had no idea what was happening with this conversation. It was insanity. She resisted the urge again to run away and just stared at him until he cleared his throat. Once. Twice. A third time.
"You are remarkably like your father," he said and then paled again as if he'd admitted something he shouldn't have.
She supposed he might have. The statement implied they were closer than he'd originally let on if her father had known or guessed at his condition.
"I didn't realize that you were that close," she said slowly. "But, uh, I guess it's good to know my dad wasn't an asshole."
Lupin, who had been taking a sip of tea with shaking hands, choked at these words. She tried not to laugh. She'd never seen any of her teachers with so little composure. Though, she couldn't blame him.
"Anyway, I'm sorry for shocking you," she said again to save him from having to think up another response. "I won't say anything though. Not even to my friends. I know wizards can be — er — harsh toward things they don't really understand. I don't want to change their opinion of you." She didn't mention that it likely wouldn't have changed their opinion of him at all because he was still staring at her in shock and she didn't want to make him think she was tempted to say anything to them anyway. "I'll see you in class on Friday."
He was still staring at her and she was seriously starting to wonder if maybe his brain had short-circuited and he didn't remember how to speak. She sighed and made to leave, but she hesitated at the doorway.
Turning back she said, "Professor, I — I hope you know that your condition is only one small part of who you are. Sometimes people are just cruel because they can be."
He didn't say anything so she took that as her sign to leave, closing the door behind her with a soft click. She let out a long breath. Yeah, she was going to do herself a favor and mind her own business from now on.
-o0o-
As November came to a close, Nessa was feeling more and more like she had too much on her plate. Between classes, homework, tutoring Cedric, avoiding George, and listening to her brother whine about not being able to visit Hogsmeade, she was really teetering on the edge of insanity.
The teachers did not ease up on the workload as Christmas break neared and she had about four essays to write within the next few weeks if she wanted to spend the majority of her break stress-free. She was planning on staying at Hogwarts again this year with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Tori and the twins were going home to the Burrow for Christmas and she spent every waking hour listening to Tori try to get her to come home with them. Mrs. Weasley would just be so delighted.
Nevermind the fact that the thought of spending the entire break with George in their cramped little home with no means to distract herself made her want to have a heave in the loo. He'd attempted to talk to her on a couple of occasions already, but she'd always found an excuse to leave before he could get started. Which irritated her because it only proved his point that she did run away from arguments instead of handling them like an adult.
She wasn't an adult though. She was fifteen, so really, she had some time to act ridiculous, right? God, she really would make any excuse to convince herself she was doing the right thing, wouldn't she?
Fortunately for her, however, Hufflepuff had been flattened by Ravenclaw in their Quidditch match at the end of November, which meant Gryffindor was not out of the running for the Quidditch Cup after all. This meant that she didn't see much of the twins or Tori at the moment because the team couldn't risk losing another game if they wanted to take the Cup. Wood had become repossessed of his manic energy, and was working the team as hard as ever in the chilly haze of rain that persisted into December.
She'd never been thankful for his mania before, but since he was keeping her from George and Tori's nagging about Christmas, she was half tempted to send him a box of Honeydukes finest. The team was currently out on the pitch for practice, despite the fact that it was eight o'clock on a Wednesday evening. Tori had been not at all happy about the late night practices — it was freezing and dark, but Wood insisted on training in all conditions (under what circumstances playing at night would be beneficial when all of their games were in the mornings, Nessa did not know) and Hufflepuff had booked the field until eight.
Nessa was looking over the course syllabus Cedric had given her for Potions, waiting for him to meet her at their usual table in a corner of the library. She'd been right that the majority of potions they were learning were things she hadn't been taught yet, and she didn't pretend to be an expert in the subject, but she'd spent most of her free time outside of her own homework reading up on some of them to see what she was dealing with before they met up Wednesday evenings. Something with which Tori and Fred insisted she needed a break from lest she become completely dull, but which Nessa had found to be rather enjoyable.
Fred looked like she'd said she wanted to cuddle with the Giant Squid when she'd said so aloud.
"Sorry, I'm late, butterfly."
Nessa rolled her eyes at the endearment, but said nothing as Cedric rushed to the table. He thought himself something funny for the nickname, considering her social awkwardness and obvious discomfort in speaking with him when he'd first approached her.
She'd said it once, but she was going to say it again anyway: She needed new friends.
He grinned at her and dropped his bag in one of the empty seats. He'd changed out of his Quidditch uniform, but his hair was still wet and there was mud on his hands from whatever drills they'd been practicing. His Hogwarts uniform was tidy other than his Hufflepuff tie, which he'd loosened around his neck.
He was very attractive.
She had a thing for ties. Maybe that was her problem. She should petition Dumbledore to get rid of the ties as part of the uniform and maybe that would solve her problem with Cedric and George.
"It's fine," she squeaked, forcing her eyes away from him. His grin widened and she cleared her throat. "How was practice?"
He shrugged, pulling parchment, textbook, and ink from his bag.
"The usual. The team's not in high spirits since we lost to Ravenclaw last weekend, so they weren't at their best form." He busied himself flipping to the chapter on the Draught of Peace. "But they were in better spirits than Gryffindor. Hastings is a real piece of work."
He smiled at her so that she'd know he was joking, but she hardly noticed. Her brows bunched in confusion.
"What'd she do?"
"One of the Weasley twins almost hit her with a Bludger in the dark and she tried to push him off his broom."
Nessa released a slow breath and closed her eyes, shaking her head in exasperation.
"The two of them are going to give me a complex, I swear," she muttered. "It's ridiculous."
"He seemed in good spirits about it. He was laughing."
"Yeah, well, I'll bet you ten Galleons that it was because he hit it toward her on purpose."
He snorted.
"I'll take your word for it, actually," he said, moving his chair so that they were directly next to each other so that she could go over the properties of the Potion and give him better notes on how to prepare it. Snape always taught the hardest way to prepare the ingredients and Nessa usually found that there were more foolproof ways to end up with the same result. "Now, be the Potions goddess you are, and teach me what the bloody hell Snape is expecting with this Potion. Mine let out too dark of a silver vapor. You'd have thought I'd killed someone the way he reacted."
Nessa laughed and spent the next hour going over the potion and its uses before breaking down the ingredients and the purpose each served in the final result. Cedric was attentive as always and took an entire parchment's worth of notes, scribbling out the ones he'd taken in class or making notes in the margins when she explained something in more detail than Snape had given. He was a quick learner and by the time she'd asked him to repeat back to her the importance of each of the ingredients, he'd done so with almost no prompting from her.
"Maybe you should teach Potions instead," he said, scribbling down that overdoing the ingredients in the potion could put someone into a long sleep similar to a coma. "I'd be much better off. So what's the reason the vapor on mine was too dark?"
Nessa hummed thoughtfully and then pointed at the powdered unicorn horn on the ingredient list.
"I can't say for certain without having seen the potion, but the most common mistake is adding too much powdered unicorn horn. It does have a big impact on the color from what I could tell from my research. And the way it's measured in potions is different for each. For example, you want to pack it in dense for the Wiggenweld Potion or antidotes for poisons because it has such strong purification properties. But for this, adding even a small amount more than necessary could negate the moonstone."
"Isn't it two tablespoons?"
She nodded.
"Yeah, but working with powdered ingredients is sort of like working with flour when you're baking. It's very easy to use too much without realizing just based on the way you measure. You could be packing in too much just by putting the spoon into the jar and scraping it against the sides. I'd recommend sifting it a little first to make sure it's not packed too tightly in the jar. And then level it off by scraping the top with your finger. That should help keep it loose."
"This makes sense to you, but Transfiguration doesn't," he joked with a shake of his head, adding her suggestion into the margins of his notes from class.
Nessa rolled her eyes.
"This is more quantifiable. It's all about the chemistry of the ingredients. And it's more useful. What reason would I need to transfigure a guinea pig into a guinea fowl?"
He smiled at her cockily and began rolling up his parchment.
"Perhaps you have a snake problem and need something to keep them away from your house."
"I'll just move out."
"Gryffindor would be proud." He laughed when she shoved him on the shoulder with an eye roll. "There's a Hogsmeade visit in a few weeks," he said casually as they were packing up for the evening.
Nessa tensed. She was certain she could see where this was going. She'd been waiting for it to happen at some point, but she was kind of hoping she was overreacting to their easy camaraderie. Of course, that was really just an excuse because he often flirted with her and called her 'cute' or 'beautiful' in passing as if it were simply a statement of fact.
"Uh, yeah, I'm not going," she said hastily before he could ask her to go with him. He raised an eyebrow at her. "I mean, I can't go. My aunt and uncle didn't sign my permission slip."
"They're Muggles aren't they?" he asked in confusion. She nodded. "They didn't want you to go?"
Nessa shrugged, crossing her arms across her chest and leaning back into her seat. She did not miss the smile on his face at the action, as if he were glad she was sticking around to talk to him about something that wasn't coursework.
"I didn't really ask, to be honest. They don't like us much. Harry asked them last summer but then he blew up our aunt so —"
"I'm sorry?" he said in alarm.
"Oh! Not like that. He — well, he lost his temper because she was insulting our parents and he blew her up with accidental magic. You know, like a balloon."
"Like a balloon."
She laughed at his perplexed expression.
"Yeah. Her fingers were the size of sausages. It's not funny, really, but, you know, she's a horrible human being. But anyway, they wouldn't sign our forms after that anyway."
He stared at her a moment and she tried not to laugh as he struggled for something to say as a reply to that. Suddenly, she understood why he had found her awkwardness in the beginning amusing.
"Well, that's a real shame," he said finally, lips twitching at her obvious attempt to withhold her mirth. "The village is beautiful during Christmas. And you look like you could use a break."
She grimaced.
"That obvious, huh?"
He smiled gently at her.
"A bit," he admitted. "Unless it's normal for you to bounce your leg nonstop."
Nessa stopped the motion immediately. How long had she been doing that for? The entire hour? When he'd mentioned Hogsmeade?
"So no Hogsmeade then," he continued as if sensing her embarrassment. "You could try flying again."
There was a teasing spark in his eye when she gave him a stern look.
"Don't start this again."
He'd been trying for weeks to convince her that flying wasn't nearly as bad as she thought it would be. That maybe she'd find flying easier without the pressure of other classmates watching her. Rational as the argument seemed, she had severe doubts that this was the case because heights were still an issue. For another, he would be watching her. Not that that was any worse, really, but if she hit him in the gut with a broom, she'd never be able to look him in the eye again.
"What do you have to lose, Potter?" he grinned charmingly.
"My limbs," she said dryly.
He laughed and she rolled her eyes at the twinkle in his eyes, even if it did make one side of her mouth curve upward. He was persistent, she'd give him that.
"You've been taking drama lessons from Hastings, I see," he quipped and laughed again at the indignant noise she made in response. "I'd never let you lose your limbs, Nessa. Flying can be very cathartic. Besides, if you pass out, maybe that's for the best."
"How do you figure that?" she cried indignantly. He raised a sarcastic brow.
"You can't be tense if you're passed out, can you?"
She huffed a laugh and shook her head.
"You're very persistent."
"It's my one move," he joked. She sincerely doubted that, but before she could say anything, he was leaning closer to her so that his face was a mere inch from hers.
She sucked in a breath of air, but didn't pull away. She should have. She really, truly should have. Except she was too busy thinking about how his eyes were the color of milk chocolate. And he smelled nice. Like the outdoors and something smokey.
He didn't say anything for a moment and gave her time to pull back if she was uncomfortable. He smiled gently at her when she didn't and tucked a stray hand of her hair behind her ear. The action alone made her heart race and caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach.
"Don't you trust me, gorgeous?"
The words were soft, teasing.
She couldn't even muster words anymore. Maybe she'd forgotten how to talk. She certainly had forgotten how to think properly. He was very close to her and it didn't make her nervous at all for some reason and he was looking at her as if he had all the time in the world.
"Of course I do," she said finally.
The smile he gave her at this response was bright and made something in her stomach lurch. Why did he have to be so goddamn attractive for? It wasn't fair, really.
And because she was too busy thinking about how unfair it was, she jumped a little when his lips brushed lightly against hers. It was only a whisper of a kiss, barely a touch at all, but it still caused her to suck in a breath through her nose in surprise.
"Then I guess I'll see you at the pitch on Friday after dinner, Potter," he said happily.
And before she could even formulate a complaint or a refusal, he brushed his lips against hers again, threw his bag over his shoulder, winked at her, and disappeared through the stacks.
She stared after him, frozen completely, eyes wide, waiting for her head to catch up with what had just happened.
What the hell had just happened?
She'd known he was interested in her, sure — well, 'known' was too strong a word. She'd suspected he was — but he'd never made any overt moves to say anything to her about it before tonight. He was always sweet to her — asked about Harry and her day as if he cared, was patient with her when helping her with Transfiguration, complimented her as if it were easier than breathing.
And, she supposed, he had asked her on several occasions to hang out with him outside of the library, but she'd always found a reason not to because she still wasn't sure how she felt about the whole thing. He was kind, sweet to her, honest, down-to-earth. She supposed she could do worse. And she had to admit she did enjoy the attention and she already knew she found him attractive.
The problem was George. It was always George.
Was it cruel of her to want to see if anything happened with Cedric when she knew full well how she felt about George? Tori insisted it wasn't. On several occasions, Tori had told her to stop overthinking her meetings with Cedric and just go with what felt natural. She'd figure out if it was worth pursuing when the time came.
But was that not leading someone on? She had no idea what she was doing — she'd never dated anyone before, never kissed anyone (although she supposed she couldn't really say that anymore). The entire thing was new to her. And it wasn't like she could ask anyone other than Tori. Harry would be useless and probably embarrassing. Fred would be too busy being disgusted that it was Diggory.
Were relationships always this complicated or was she making this harder than it needed to be? She couldn't tell anymore.
There was a loud sound from the stack over and she jumped in alarm, pulling herself out of her thoughts. Checking her watch, she realized it was almost nine fifteen. She had fifteen minutes to get back to the common room before curfew. Swearing, she shoved her things back in her bag and rushed out of the library, awkwardly waving to an unsmiling Madam Pince on the way out.
At least she wasn't as miserable as her, she supposed. It could be worse, all things considered.
"Was that Diggory you were with, Potter?"
Nessa groaned at the sound of the voice behind her. Turning around, she came face to face with a smirking Adelaide Murton. Her two friends stood off to the side of her and Nessa rolled her eyes. She really did not have time for this.
She hadn't had to deal with Adelaide much in weeks, aside from deflecting some of her hexes in the corridors outside of Potions. She found satisfaction in seeing the girl's lip curl every time she missed her mark and her frustration mounted. She'd expected an easier victim, Nessa was sure.
"I thought she was interested in that Weasley twin," she sneered to one of her friends. "The one with the girlfriend."
Nessa tensed as the brown-haired friend grinned maliciously at her.
"She is," she said with a mean little laugh. "I heard him and Spinnet arguing about it in the courtyard the other day."
"You've got horrible taste in men, Vanessa, I must say," Adelaide sneered. Nessa's nostrils flared at the use of her full name, but she forced herself not to say anything to avoid giving Murton the satisfaction of riling her. "What would poor Diggory think if he knew you had your eyes on someone else? Didn't mommy ever tell you it's cruel to string someone along?"
"Couldn't have," cackled the blonde friend — Pickens, she thought her name was. "She was dead before she could even learn to count."
Nessa rolled her eyes.
"You'll have to come up with better insults than that," she said smoothly. "I've heard all the dead parent jokes from bitches like you a hundred times over."
Murton growled at her and took a step forward. Nessa stepped backward and her legs hit one of the random trunks scattered around Hogwarts. It was one of the old ones with the big gold clasps on the front and was the size of a small child. She didn't know what was in any of them. Maybe they were just for decoration.
Murton smirked as she retreated and her eyes snagged on the trunk. Nessa had put her wand in her bag when she'd rushed out of the library and there was not a chance she would be able to fish it out now without getting hexed first.
Stupid move, she thought.
The wandless magic thing could work, but she hadn't been practicing much lately with everything else she had going on and there were three of them. Much harder to disarm all of them without a wand. Running wouldn't help. Turning her back on any of them was stupid and she wasn't sure she could run faster than any of them anyway. Maybe she could snipe at them long enough that curfew would pass and a teacher would catch them out of their dorm. Seemed too risky a plan.
She was going to have to take the hex, she supposed. This was going to suck, she thought, but maybe she could get to her wand if she moved fast enough after the first spell went flying.
"You know, I heard something funny on Halloween," Adelaide said silkily, gesturing at her friends to move to either side of Vanessa. She tensed and tried to keep her eyes on the both of them out of the corner of her eye. This was really going to suck. "You're claustrophobic, yes?"
Nessa tensed, but said nothing, and tried to keep her face neutral. Admitting it seemed stupid. She wasn't sure what Murton could do that would make her feel claustrophobic, but she wasn't really looking to find out. Denying it seemed futile. However she'd learned the information, she seemed fairly confident, and Nessa wasn't entirely sure she could convince her otherwise.
"You've got Weasley wrapped around your little finger. You told him you couldn't sleep in a sleeping bag," she continued as if the silence was answer enough. She took another step forward and Nessa refused to break eye contact, refused to show any sign of fear or weakness even though she had a very bad feeling about this and had nowhere else to go because of the stupid trunk behind her. "And there he was — your knight in shining armor, there to save the day, even though you pissed him off."
Her friends snickered on either side of her and Nessa tried not to bristle at the idea that she needed anyone to save her from anything. Nessa made to open her bag surreptitiously because she had no idea what the point of this story was, but she wasn't a fan of finding out, but Pickens noticed and tutted, ripping it away from her and tossing it across the corridor.
Goddammit, why would she have put her wand in her bag? Such a stupid mistake.
"I was sleeping near the two of you, you see," Murton continued, grin widening now that she was defenseless. Still, Nessa kept her face neutral. "I didn't think the information would come in that handy, but I tucked it away just in case. But here we are."
Nessa's brows furrowed because she had no idea what the hell she was talking about. They were in an open corridor. But then Pickens opened the trunk behind her and her entire body froze, ice filling her veins and panic tightening her throat.
Oh, hell no.
She lunged forward, but Murton shoved her back into her friends, who each grabbed an arm and held her in place.
"I told you not to mess with me, Potter," Murton grinned. Nessa had never seen her grin so happily before. "Let's see if your knight will find you in here, shall we?"
*** Trigger warning here for anyone who may need it. Please proceed with caution.
Nessa was not a fighter. Not usually anyway. Not unless someone she loved was in danger or hurting. But whatever her reservations may have been, her body didn't care. Her fight or flight response kicked in so quickly, she had no time to think at all.
She would hate that they'd see her panic later. But she absolutely could not end up stuck in a trunk in some random corridor. She scratched and clawed and tugged on hair, but there were so many of them. She could hear the three of them swearing at her as she fought, heard Adelaide hissing at them to make it quick before they got caught, but the blood was rushing in her ears and she was hardly paying attention.
Scream, Vanessa.
A hand covered her mouth just as she opened her mouth to pull the air into her lungs. One of them lifted her off the ground and she kicked out with her legs. She caught one of them because she heard them swear again and she was standing on the ground again. She bit the hand over her mouth.
"Bitch!" Adelaide snarled, pulling her hand away at the immediate sting.
Nessa opened her mouth to scream again, but the bite had pissed Murton off. There was a fire in her eyes, a maliciousness that Nessa had never seen before. Murton rested her hands on her shoulders and shoved. Hard.
Her knees hit the side of the empty trunk and she toppled backward into it. Pickens and the brown-haired girl were on her immediately, shoving her head down, her legs in. It was a large trunk and she was small, but it was still a tight fit and she tried to grab onto the side with her hand to pull herself out. Murton grinned at her and shoved the lid down hard and she screamed then because the pain in her fingers was intense, but it had done its job. She'd pulled her hand back in reflex and her legs were not nearly strong enough to fight the push of three other girls.
The trunk snapped closed and she was surrounded in darkness. She heard the latches of the trunk being clasped distantly through the blood rushing in her ears, the sounds of them running in the opposite direction, and then there was silence other than her quick breathing.
Distantly, she knew she should try to remain as calm as possible. Panicking would only make it worse, would make her breath come out faster. Would make the oxygen within the trunk run out faster. Could end up physically hurting herself from reacting too rashly. She'd heard the calmer you could keep yourself, the better. But her brain was currently sending out every panic signal it could.
There was nothing in her head except the panic. Nothing she could see other than the darkness. Nothing she could feel other than her racing heart that was pounding so hard, it was making her chest hurt. The air was hot and heavy, making her sweat and pressing down on her lungs. The hot air against her chest was what made her panic more. Her lungs felt like they weren't working — like even through the desperate breaths she was inhaling at a mile a minute, she was never going to drag in enough air to keep her alive.
She could die in here. That's the only thing she could think about as the fight response reared again. Whether from a heart attack from the fear or because she ran out of oxygen, if no one realized she was in here, she could end up dead.
She kicked out, scratched and clawed at the lid as if she could claw her way out of the trunk somehow. She kicked her legs as best she could with what little room she had to move. She tried to scream, but her throat was closing and she was trying so desperately to breathe that she couldn't even find the energy to do so.
The longer she fought to get out, the more it tired her out, the more the panic started to overtake her mind. It was a lingering shadow in her mind, taking up residence in her head and wiping out all rational thought as if it had never existed. The longer she fought, the more futile it became, the more the shadow grew, tendrils reaching out to take over more and more of her sanity, blacking out her thoughts so effectively that she wasn't sure she was going to recover from this.
She was going to pass out. If she'd been able to see anything, she was sure her vision would be blurring at the edges. If she'd been able to stand, she was certain that her legs would be going weak, her head filling with cotton. All she could tell in here was that her limbs were getting heavier, her brain was too overtaken with the panic. It was going to shut down to help preserve what little oxygen she had within this enclosed space. No matter how hard she needed to remain awake, to keep making as much noise as possible, her brain was going to take over and do its job, rational thought be damned.
Yep, she was definitely going to pass out.
*** May be safe to read now for anyone heeding trigger warnings. Again, this is *relative*, as this considers my own triggers, so please still be considerate of yourself and your triggers. ***
Except all of a sudden there was a blinding light and a rush of cool air. Her vision was blurring at the edges, but her body reacted of its own accord and she shot up into the open space before her, breathing ragged and panicked. She scrambled to get out of the trunk, tried to back away from it as fast as possible, as if its proximity alone was a danger to her.
Someone was talking to her, but she couldn't hear them, couldn't see anything. Her brain had not caught up to the fact that she was now safe and it was blocking out every sense she had. She needed to run. She needed to get the hell out.
There were arms on her shoulders and she fought hard, clawing at whoever was in front of her, swinging out with her fist and connecting with something, kicking out and connecting with something else. There was a chorus of soft swears and then a female voice yelling something about compression.
She did not give a shit. She had to get out of here. She didn't know where. Anywhere else. Anywhere but here.
Except someone was picking her up off the floor. She kicked out hard. There was a grunt, but whoever was holding her wasn't letting go. God, she was going to die. Maybe passing out would be better than this. It might be a mercy at this point.
Strong arms wrapped around her chest and squeezed. Hard. So hard that she almost wondered if they were trying to keep her from breathing altogether. She kept kicking out, but whoever was holding her didn't seem to care much for their own safety because every kick she landed was only met with a grunt or another swear and the grip around her did not loosen.
Eventually, her body gave out, her limbs burning and heavy and she was left with nothing but a racing heart and ragged breathing. The sobs started then. Gut-wrenching, harsh sobbing that made her feel like she was going to vomit from the strength of them.
Someone was talking to her. Maybe had been the entire time, she wasn't entirely certain. The grip on her chest tightened and she was forced to suck in a breath. Another. Another. Some of what was happening around her began to come back slowly. Distantly.
Whoever was holding her was behind her and she relaxed some more because that meant she wasn't trapped again. Wasn't in some new form of torture. They were still speaking to her — gentle, strong, calm. Calm.
The scent hit her next. Gunpowder and cinnamon.
George.
Her head cleared some more, some of the shadows fading a little.
"That's it, love," his voice was still calm, sure, strong. She clung to the sound of it in an attempt to ground herself back in reality. "Just breathe for me. You're alright. Deep breaths."
She had no idea how he'd known where she was. Didn't care. He was keeping her sane at the moment and she was breathing again — deep and slow. The corridor was coming back into focus again. It was dimly lit, the cool air was hitting her face, the sound of someone crying registering in her ears. The trunk was still open on the other side of the corridor. The sight of it was enough for her breathing to increase again.
"Nope, don't do that," said George from behind her, sensing the minute change in her breathing and posture. He whirled around so that she was facing the wall instead. "Close your eyes. Breathe." She couldn't. God, she'd been stuck in there. "Come on, sweetheart, close your eyes. Good girl. Breathe. Again."
He walked her through it again until she could think again. Until her senses came back slowly and completely. She sagged and George grunted at the dead weight. He sank to the ground with her and she went willingly, her head rolling on his shoulder.
Her body felt like liquid, like she had lost all function, like she was in a daze. Everything hurt — her legs, her arms, her throat, her chest, her head. Her hand. Something was broken. Her fingers were a horrible purple color. From the lid slamming on her fingers. She was missing entire fingernails. From trying to claw her way out.
Oh God.
"Whatever you're thinking about, stop," George said from behind her, calm but firm. "Just keep breathing. You're okay, I promise. Just breathe."
She felt herself nod. She looked around again, searching for something else to focus on. Tori was across from her, shaking uncontrollably, and sobbing brokenly. Fred was holding her back to keep her from crowding George and Nessa until the panic attack had subsided. His grip was firm, but his jaw was tight and his hands were shaking.
Nessa tried to raise her arm, but everything was still too heavy. She only managed to flip her hand so that her palm faced upward and twitched some of her fingers. Tori and Fred understood anyway. He released her and she was next to her in half of a breath, grabbing her uninjured hand and resting her forehead against hers, the relief palpable through her sobbing.
"Okay," Nessa rasped. Her throat hurt from all of the panicked breathing.
Tori kept her forehead against hers as she searched her face to see if she was telling the truth. Eventually, she closed her eyes in relief and took a breath to control her own crying.
"Tell me who," she said, a steely resolve entering her eyes.
Nessa shook her head. Tori would commit murder for this. Murton deserved whatever Tori would dish out, probably, but Nessa did not want to have Tori expelled. Tori wasn't having it though. She grabbed Nessa's chin and forced their eyes to meet.
"Tell me who," she repeated, her tone unyielding.
Nessa hesitated, but she'd seen that look on her friend's face before. She wouldn't drop meant neither would either of the twins. She'd tell Harry if she had to. McGonagall. Dumbledore. She'd burn the school down in an attempt to figure out who'd done it.
Nessa didn't have the energy to fight her.
"Murton."
Tori's expression darkened, but she nodded once and looked back at Fred. He was scowling, but the resolve in his eyes matched Tori's own and he nodded at her. Nessa made a distressed sound in the back of her throat because she didn't need both of them doing something stupid, but George tilted her head back until she could meet his eyes.
They were so blue. Maybe she hadn't looked at them in a while because they were mesmerizing. Or maybe the panic attack had made her delusional. They were normally bright, but they were dark now. Mostly from concern, but she could see the rage in them and in the tight set of his jaw.
"Don't worry about them," he said softly. "Are you okay?"
She wasn't paying attention anymore. He had a scratch on his cheek and a bruise on his jaw. She frowned up at him and lifted the hand Tori was holding to touch the bruise.
"I'm alright, love," he said, grabbing her wrist gently as she moved to the scratch on his cheek. He had scratches on his arms too. "You've got a mean right hook."
"Sorry," she said.
He shook his head and removed her hand from his face, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of it and placing it back in Tori's hand. Under normal circumstances, an action like that would have melted her. But she was still trying to get her head to catch up and thinking too hard made her head hurt even more.
"I'm fine," he repeated again. "Tell me what you need."
"Hurts," she said softly. "Everything. So tired."
She jumped when someone grabbed her injured hand gently.
"Hi, munchkin," Fred said, moving her hand gently to get a look at the bruises.
"Hi, Freddie," she replied, smiling weakly as he conjured bandages.
"This is gonna hurt, darling," he warned, pointing his wand at her hand and muttering "Episkey!"
She swore as the bones snapped back into place, but the pain disappeared as soon as it started. He grabbed some of the bandages and wrapped them around the bruises in the same way she had done for him only weeks earlier.
"Anywhere else?" he said when he'd finished.
"Nothing else is broken," she rasped, clearing her throat and wincing at how dry it felt. "I just hurt everywhere. And I'm tired."
"Can you walk?" George asked from behind her. She nodded, even though her legs still felt like jelly. "Fred can go get you some hot chocolate and we can go back to the common room."
Fred nodded and offered her his hands so that he could pull her up. She wobbled a little at the lightness in her head and the weakness of her legs but she didn't fall. Tori and George stood next. Tori grabbed her bag from the floor and swung it over her shoulder, but Nessa shook her head and held out her hand.
"My wand," she said.
Tori fished it out and handed it to her.
She was never putting her wand in her bag again, that was certain.
-o0o-
I am really putting Nessa through the emotional wringer this year apparently. I can't even explain why I'm like this anymore.
As a reminder to all of you lovely readers after such a heavy chapter: You matter. Your mental health matters. Stay strong and be safe, lovelies.
Up next: some George/Nessa and flying lessons with Cedric !