Chapter Fifteen

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ROSE POV

When I got to my bed last night, I thought that sleep would come easy. I was wrong.

Snap. Thud.

I could still hear the sounds in my head. Theo's evil face was burning into my memory. Sirius Black's dead body lying on the ground by my feel haunted my thoughts.

Compartmentalize. Don't think about it.

But I couldn't. It wasn't working. All I could hear was the wet snap of vertebrae.

I had seen people die before in many brutal ways. Always done with magic. Never with one's own two hands as a result of complete animalistic instinct.

Barbaric. That was the only way to describe it. In that moment, he wasn't the sweet Theo that played quidditch and enjoyed a quickie in the prefect bathrooms. He was a killer through in through. When his eyes fell on me, it was like he was looking through me, like he didn't even comprehend it was me on the ground, terrified in front of him.

I had also never seen death so close. The last thing Sirius Black saw before he died was me. The last person he spoke to was me. I heard his last words. I watched him take his last breath only inches away from my face.

Traumatic events like death were easier to forget when you took no part in them. When Voldemort slit Charles's neck like it was nothing, of course it had an impact, but it was easy erasable. I could sweep those feelings under the table no problem because I played no role in his death. Sirius, however, died because of me.

His blood was on my hands by default.

Snap. Thud.

I tried to close my eyes and focus on counting sheep, and after almost a full 15 minutes, sleep started to weigh on my eyelids.

The door to our room flew open and quickly shut again, and the high-pitched sobs of Pansy filled the room.

Are you kidding me?

Maybe if I didn't move, she would think I was asleep.

"Pansy? What's wrong? What happened?" Daphne's head shot up from her pillow.

Fuck sake, Greengrass.

"N-n-nothing." Pansy blubbered like an idiot.

Daphne flicked on her light, which in turn woke up Millicent.

This exactly what I did not want to happen. That's why I told her I didn't know where Draco was. I knew he would be in a shit mood after what happened. We almost died and I fucking kissed him.

Usually I would be kicking myself, cursing myself for doing that, but for some reason, I was glad I did it. It felt like if I hadn't kissed him, I would regret it more than if I did.

What the fuck was going on with me?

I can't even imagine what he must be thinking right now. He's probably just as confused as I am.

I shouldn't have done it, but I did.

Why did I want to do it again?

No. That wasn't going to happen. It couldn't happen again. He could never know how I really felt about that kiss.

Maybe he hated it. Maybe he liked it. Why did I hope that he liked it?

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