𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼𝗰𝗸, harry potter

˗ˋ 62

CHAPTER SIXTY TWO
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-: fifth year :-

── IN WHICH THEY
DON'T SPEAK

. . .

Neither Harry, nor Aviana spoke to one another for a couple of days following what the latter had labelled 'the incident'. Of course, she was embarrassed by it; such a blatant display of emotion was perhaps the worst thing she could think of ever doing in front of someone. The last thing Aviana ever wanted was to appear weak, and crying was certainly one way to do that.

They still attended detentions with each other, but other than the falsified affections that made Umbridge tut and shake her head and mutter spiteful things under her breath, not a single conversation was shared. Her mind was busy, too busy, thinking of ways to remedy it, of how to balance her homework pile and Merlin, just how many people she had to flirt with to ensure that Montague would consistently hold a Quidditch practise on a Saturday for as long as she needed there to be one - and truly, she had no idea. Umbridge certainly will have been, but Aviana had long-ago stopped counting the weeks of detentions she had been given on top of her 'original sentence', as the woman so enjoyed putting it.

That hadn't changed, the number of detentions she was getting. Harry would watch, in Defence Against the Dark Arts, as she has a sullen, blank expression that led directly from her comments to Umbridge being witty and filled with snark to something a little more venomous; name-calling, comments on the pink of her wardrobe, openly criticising the Ministry and Fudge himself all whilst she had the most bored, most distracted look on her face.

All the while, he had been fighting the intrinsic, complicated battle within his head to whether or not it was a good idea to approach her, to have a conversation, because somehow, he had gotten used to their talks and he was itching to speak to her again. He imagined, somewhat, that a distance had sprouted because Aviana had flushed pink as she wiped away her tears, avoiding his gaze as she blotted away the damp spots and understood that to Aviana, that behaviour was embarrassing.

At least neither Ron nor Hermione had taken his outburst of anger to heart. They were the same as always at breakfast the next day, which Aviana didn't even bother turning up to, and Hermione seemed to have decided it was best to refrain from mentioning her idea at all, to which Harry was grateful.

Because somewhere along the way Aviana's opinion had become trusted, and for some stupid, stupid reason that he could easily connect with wanting to just kiss her again before being subjected to some kind of torture, he wanted to ask her what she thought of the idea. Her knack for getting under Umbridge's skin could hopefully determine whether or not it would be worth it at all, too, if they should even bother with it.

So, on the third day of not talking, Harry made his way to breakfast with the intention of talking to her. Not at breakfast, no, no matter how many times Aviana briefly would mention pissing Draco off he knew there was no way that she would ever speak to him again if he did that. Crying in front of him was one thing, and that was entirely another. They had Potions first thing, and if he couldn't some how find himself in the ingredients cupboard with her to ask her to talk then he supposed he'd have to take a page out of her book and simply pull her to the side in the corridors.

And, low and behold, she was already there when he had arrived, unlike the two mornings previous when he hadn't seen her sat at the Slytherin table. She was silent amongst the conversation between her friends, her uniform as usual replaced by something other; a long black sleeved-top and an emerald green sweater vest, laden with silver jewellery. As always, the ring Sirius had gifted her sat there, on the longest chain so that it hung near her heart. But, unlike usual, it wasn't hidden beneath the confines of her shirt.

She had done the same at the detention that night, but spoke neither a word to himself nor Umbridge – and when that tactic was employed it seemed to only anger the professor more, as she raved about insolent, rude young ladies and their inability to ever act in a way that was deemed appropriate. More could be seen in her actions though, because despite the fact Aviana ran off back to the Slytherin dorms as soon as Umbridge dismissed them, through the duration of the detention the act was back on, and she was smiling so sweetly when she looked at him that it simultaneously made his heart swell and unnerved him simultaneously.

When their eyes met across the tables of students between them, she didn't look away. He hadn't even had time to get anything to eat, but he found himself not particularly hungry. When he tilted his head to the side, ever so slightly, gesturing the door.

She didn't respond, even in the slightest, most secretive of manner. Merely, for a moment or so, whilst Harry agonised over her lack of response, her gaze passed over her friends, sipping from her mug of coffee. And then, in one tip of her head, dark hair falling down her back, she finished it, and stood. Aviana stayed still for a moment, rolling her eyes at whatever questions her friends directed at her, before stalking away from them, down the length of the Slytherin table and to the doors.

"Harry, why have you stood up again?" Hermione asked, confused, as Harry broke from the trance. "Where are you going? We've only just got here."

"Er... toilet?" Harry offered, untangling himself from the benches. Ron smirked, and mumbled something to Hermione about him probably not being hungry as he left... particularly hurriedly.

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