𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐍 | 𝐇.𝐏. | 𝟏𝟖+

𝟎𝟎𝟓 - 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞

Yay! We got to 50 votes on the last chapter! I know we could do it :). The next chapter will be published when this one gets 60 votes. I'm honestly so motivated to get your votes and recognition. I love you guys and happy reading. Leave me a comment, if you like! I'm in need of some smiling today.

THERE'S A RUPTURE of parchment and a breach in the shelf. She snaps the hardcovers, feels the pressure of book spines cracking painfully underneath her force. They almost detonate and she wants them to. She wants ruins. She wants ravage. So, she smashes the books mightily with her bat.

They crumble, plummet with loud thuds to the floor and she laughs as she takes another strike to the shelf. The splinters of wood and murky dust dance around her and she feels like a warrior.

When all around her is ruined and there are no opponents left standing, she reaches down, falls to her knees. Starts ripping the paper out of one of the hefty books. It feels like a sharp blade cuts her skin, but she doesn't care. She wants it to hurt. Needs it to hurt. Warriors hurt too.

And it's like she's getting a second chance because she's never been a fighter. She's never lived up to those house expectations. No, she's a quiet one who slithers in the shadows and when war rages on before her, she hides.

She didn't fight with her parents. Wasn't bold like Gryffindor, smart like Ravenclaw, loyal like Hufflepuff, or cunning like Slytherin.

She reckons the founders are rolling over in their graves.

She's a fraud and a bad one at that.

She chokes out a humourless laugh, continues beating out her rage. She pretends the books are her family. She pretends one is Malfoy, the other is Pansy. She beats the crap out of Harry Potter and the ministry, and they're all suffering, breaking underneath her exertion.

She bats a judgemental eyelash at the ruins beneath her, glances skeptically at the crushed wood and shredded paper.

She feels victorious. Violent. Thunderous. And for a moment, she forgets that Potter's grinning lazily in the back.

She snaps out of it, stands up on wobbly knees. The adrenaline that courses through her veins makes her feel awfully alive, something she hasn't felt for a long time.

And when she turns around, he's there.

Emerald eyes meet hers like a car crash— and her mouth is agape. She doesn't know what to say, can already feel the heavy bowling ball that's settled in her stomach sink.

She feels ashamed. Can already picture how she looks, thinks that there's a ferocious look about her. Her untamed curls are smacked around her face, pasted to her forehead. Just seconds ago, her eyes shone like a mental person and she wonders if he regrets sleeping with her. She would. But the blush— it's the blush that sets her golden skin aflame that makes her feel embarrassed. Because blushing makes it personal. Blushing betrays yourself. And Jade doesn't like to betray herself.

She shoots her gaze away from him, intends to leave the classroom. But as she makes her exit, he grabs her arm.

She looks up at him, and in huge shock, she realizes that he's smiling. It briefly reminds her that he's just as much out of place as she is.

"That was violent," he says, and she gives a short, half-suppressed laugh. "Feels bloody brilliant, doesn't it?"

"I wasn't aware that assaulting books with a bat could be so mind-boggling—

But she doesn't get to finish her sentence. Because he's there, slicing those last inches of distance between them and the words die in her throat. It's intoxicatingly fast, and her attention is drawn to a tiny gap in his left eyebrow. She wonders if it's an addition to the searing lightning bolt or just a Quidditch scar.