ᴜɴᴅᴏɴᴇ | ᴅ.ᴍ

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

I'M standing next to the common room dining table.

The front of my thighs hovering against the table as I put all my weight onto it with my hands, the palm of my right hand pressed onto the table as I'm thinking, just thinking. I think.

My head is spinning with the possibility of so many things, not sure of anything at all as I just stand there and process, don't know what I'm processing or how exactly, but I just am, for some reason, I just am. I don't know how to feel or what to do, especially after the conversation I had with Harry and the others yesterday.

I vividly remember the bloody floor, the bloody hands, the screams coming from Weasley's mouth as I could still feel Hermione's shaking body. I don't know how I had such control over my emotions, I had expected myself to break, to cripple down at the sight of such a thing. Sometimes I don't understand myself, I don't understand how to categorize my emotions or how to feel about certain things. I tend to just pretend some feelings don't exist or run away from them. It's easier.

Though my stubborn self likes to deal with it right away, talk it out, and get it out of the way. Be straight up and clear, why let it be dragged out for so long and create unnecessary inconvenient feelings? I don't know sometime's if I'm lying to protect others or me, loads of things in my life don't make sense, nothing really does, it's like a huge game of Jenna and everything is just falling without the slightest touch, there's no equilibrium.

The common room has always been dark and gloomy but the good kind, it's like darkness pulling you in, and you're dancing with it because it feels good, because sometimes darkness isn't always the bad thing. Maybe, just maybe. It was the casual calm weekend before the tournament began—before the storm came in. With the temperature in this common room you'd expect to be drowning in sweaters, but instead, I stood here in a sage green button-up dress, hugging me at the waist, as small black buttons trailed up to the middle of my chest.

The curls of my hair just falling in their own way, so elegantly as I pushed it away from my face, behind on one side of my ear as I could feel my entire body tensed out, aching for a release in a way as the sides of my head pounding, everything circling my mind again, the letter in my hand crumpling, Harry's words, and the thought of the tournament starting which weirdly was the last of my issues.

The tips of my fingertips slightly drum against the table, so gently that it sort of tickles. Massaging my forehead with my thumb as I sort of sniffle, just trying to collect myself.

It's all alright, all alright, all alright.

Lies.

I turn around as my back is against the table, looking down as I pinch down on the bridge of my nose, sniffling as my nose tingles from the allergies, or I can't tell if I feel like crying an entire river. I swallow the thick air within my mouth so harshly down as I look up, seeing him walk in.