alluringly entwined | f.w, d.m

52

It was uncanny now because whenever Oshun woke up or before she went to sleep, she searched for bruises.

It was like a hunt. How are my bruises today? What bruises do I have today? What shapes are they? How many purple ones do I have?

Bruises appeared randomly on her caramel skin due to the insidious effects of her sickness. A very obvious reminder that she was, in fact, dying.

The explanation she used for when Draco saw more bruises on her was that she bruised easily. He let it go after she got angry with him for pressing about them.

She didn't want to tell anyone she was sick because it would change her last couple months. It wouldn't be normal. It would feel more like living in pity than living her best possible life.

She wanted to live life for her last couple of months. Wanted to live reality and not pity. If she told people, her last days wouldn't be genuine and normal. It just wouldn't.

And if living a normal life—ignoring death—meant to witness one of the loves of her life be with another girl, then so be it.

Because as Oshun sat at a table in the library, she watched in utter heartbreak as the tall redhead whispered things into Romilda Vane's ear in one of the book aisles and she giggled back at him.

Oshun tried not to stare, but it was making her feel something inside.

Hurt. Anger. Betrayal. Rage. Sadness. She wanted to feel. She wanted to feel all emotions from now on because in a couple months, she'd feel nothing.

She really needed to stop thinking about her deathbed. She planned what her deathbed would look like too.

She wanted to be surrounded by flowers—okay, no, stop. She shook off those thoughts.

She was actually far from okay. She just smiled and laughed with her friends because she needed to be okay for them.

She just let herself fall apart in the shower or when she was alone in her dorm. She kept in touch with her parents through letters and she assured them she was fine.

They were the only ones who knew of her sickness, but she made sure that they were reassured. That she was okay.

No one needed to know what was going on inside of her.

All they needed to believe was that she was a vivacious girl—now sad because Fred left her—so in love with two beautiful boys.

But what happened with Fred and Oshun? She herself didn't even know.

They were amazing the day before she went to her house and when she got back from her house, he was all over Romilda.

Oshun didn't even speak to him because Romilda was always with him. Fred was always smiling with her and love-dazed with her.

He used to be like that with Oshun.

Not Romilda.

"What happened with you and Fred, Oshun?" George had asked her one time with confusion and worry dimming his eyes.

Oshun shrugged. "He got bored of me, I suppose," she told him, because it was how she felt.

She actually didn't believe he got bored of her, but that was how she felt.

Fred always expressed how much he adored her and his amber eyes always spoke volumes of fondness when he stared at her. He was always making her laugh and dancing with her at random times, giving her piggyback rides down the corridors, giving her warm bear-hugs.

All of the things he did were just as magical as the first time he did them with her—not even a falter of emotion. He had a quite literal obsession with her.