𝐏𝐀𝐑·𝐀·𝐃𝐎𝐗
\ per-ə-ˌdäks \
(n.) a seemingly absurd or self-contradictory statement or proposition that when investigated or explained may prove to be well founded or true
[ cedric diggory x fem!oc ]
[ goblet of fire - ? ]
[ harry potter au ]
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Woah."
Eloise's scowl deepened. Magnus immediately took a generous step back.
"Noted."
There was a wrinkled mark on her cheek from her pillow and a rebellious strand of hair that was pasted against her forehead. "OWLs are only a month away, y'know. In case you'd forgotten."
Magnus knew that it was supposed to be a defensive jab, but he had actually forgotten. He waved it off.
He knew that it wasn't just about the exams—it couldn't be. Eloise was one of those people who planned their entire life day by day, week by week, month by month. She could probably finish her Charms OWL in time to polish her shoes and maybe cook an omelette before Professor Flitwick noted the one-hour mark.
No, it definitely wasn't about the exams.
· · ──── · ❈ · ──── · ·
ELOISE WOKE UP WITH a painful breath lodged in her throat.
It made her keel over the edge of her bed as she coughed violently, the feeling of murky liquid trickling down her lungs so real and all-consuming that it burned to breathe.
Her body was sore by the time the coughing ceased and stopped provoking the need to heave her respiratory organs out of her mouth and onto the floor. A bone-deep ache settled over her as she crawled back into the covers, her limbs moving languidly. She suddenly felt so aware of her own skin that her teeth chattered, each brush of her linen duvet against her like nails on a chalkboard.
Blurred and fragmented images flitted through her head like a roll of faulty tapes, blurry and ungrounded as most dreams were. Even then, the sensation of water clogging her ears and throat was overwhelming. It was horrifying and unmistakable and annoying.
Being plagued with visceral nightmares every time she closed her eyes made her feel small, like she was a child again. It was like that one irrational fear of the Bogeyman she had when she was younger, except this was a hundred times more terrifying, and she had a sinking feeling that this was somehow also very much real.
Casting the Silencing Charm that blanketed her four-poster bed every night had become a part of her routine that was as familiar as brushing her teeth and scribbling in her journal before bed. It felt a little like giving in, but Eloise would rather swallow her pride than be on Viktoriya Faire's Death List for the rest of her life.
She blindly reached towards the glass of water on her nightstand before bringing it to her lips, almost tipping it over onto herself when her hands jerked and trembled from the fading adrenaline.
