fourteen - threats | blood in the water

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The 'Beauty Brings Death' trailer is linked above. 🤍 HEED THE WARNINGS 🤍

tw // blood, gore, depressed thoughts, suicidal thoughts, knife/blade use

please take these tw seriously, the content in this chapter could seriously be triggering.

song: eyes on fire - blue foundation

HERMIONE

HERMIONE

The grandfather clock that towers beside the common room's entrance door strikes half past eleven.

They haven't moved— the fire has completely died down, and it's left the room in darkness, making the current situation even more terrifying.

Their chests are heaving in synchrony as uneven puffs of breath waft in the space between them— and the knot welling in the base of her throat is inhabiting words from forming as his grip remains firm around her forearm.

His lower spine is pressed up against the wall, body curved in a way that evens his line of vision with hers.

Fear is suffocating in this moment— smothering her into bits of nothing.

And she's not sure if she's more scared of him, or the fact that he's bleeding from— everywhere it seems— pools of red have accumulated around their feet; sticky, and warm on the bare of her soles.

The hand that is free of her touch is gripped in the fabric of his black shirt that seems to be missing a few buttons— it folds open in places where his torso is crunched over, revealing the snowy skin of his chest.

His cheeks are turning blue— purple bruises ring around both of his eyes that glow icy through the dim of the room, and he's shivering— the lack of blood is causing his body temperature to decrease rapidly.

But she's the one that feels frozen— mind is only circling ways to tame the dragon long enough to get ahold of her wand.

Heal him.

Her brain is begging.

He's going to bleed out— he's going to die.

Then his jaw clenches— he opens his mouth, lips crack open in new places due to dryness— blood dribbles down his chin, "I—"

"Let me— please," she gulps, "Let me heal you," she blurts through the silence, voice crackles in-between the heave of her chest.

His mouth snaps shut amid her interruption— eyes narrow further in vexation.

She yanks her arm downward once— an attempt to loosen his grip, "Please," her voice is low, dripping with plead as she takes a step back.

But it isn't enough— he doesn't budge in his firmness.

"You know I've been looking for that?" The strand of hair that hangs free over his eye's sways with the puff of his breath.

She breathes in and then out sharply, nails dig familiar into the flesh of her palms, "No, I didn't know—"

He releases his fist from where it was wound in the fabric of his shirt— stretches to wrap it around the brink of her waist; sure to leave a handprint of crimson on the pale blue silk of her pajama set's shirt. He tugs her forward sharply. She stumbles over her feet— chest presses into his; other hand is still wrapped solid around the circumference of her forearm at their side.

"Did you know it was mine? When you took it—" he grunts in between his words in pain, "Did you know it was mine?"

He's speaking through clenched teeth— voice is horse from ache.

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