Aionios

Chapter 42

She couldn't believe it. She honestly could not fathom how Draco could say something so hurtful out of the blue, stooping so low as to involve her own mother- someone she loved so dearly, someone who was already dead.

How could he do such a heartless thing? Isabelle understood that competitive spirit and heated misunderstandings were a part of Quidditch- and any other sport for that matter- but she had never- in her entire life- expected such disrespect to be thrown straight at her like a harsh slap to the face.

There was disappointment, confusion, and incredulity surrounding her heart as she absentmindedly trudged up the hills back to Hogwarts castle, Ace trailing behind her silently, giving her space while also making sure that her emotions won't lead her to do anything reckless.

Among all those heavy and negative thoughts born from Draco's ruthless words, the most prominent emotion that served as a needle continuously pinching painfully at her heart was the hurt- agonizing in the way that it stole the breath right out of her lungs every time she attempted to breathe.

Those words- no matter who said them- were painful for Isabelle to hear, but the fact that it came from Draco- of all people- only made it a hundred times worse.

Isabelle felt betrayed. She felt like something had been taken away from her- something precious- and not in that gentle manner akin to an adult taking a teddy bear away from a toddler- No. She felt like something was literally ripped from her very skin, leaving unseen blood and invisible scars in its wake. She was not certain if it was her heart or something else entirely that had been ripped apart from her, but it still hurt like freaking hell regardless.

The painful jolts in her chest became too much that by the time Isabelle reached the entrance to the castle, she had to lean against the wall to momentarily gather her breath, her hand flying to soothe her chest and her knees buckling beneath her.

She realized that maybe she looked pathetic like that- breaking down in a miserable heap on the floor- and she was thankful that no one was around to witness this moment of weakness, but she really couldn't hold it in anymore.

All the pressure from being Elite Number One, the expectations that Kingsley and the Order had for her, the fear that one wrong move could possibly end everything that the Elite Eight and the Order had worked so hard for.

It was like she was playing a blind game of chess with Voldemort, and every member of the Order and The Elite Eight were the chess pieces she had at her disposal- and she fucking hated that.

She didn't like that all of those lives were in her hands, and she had the decision to use them as pawns, or knights, or bishops or whatever chess piece was needed to make sure Voldemort didn't get the upper hand.

She tried her best to pull herself together, to remind herself that she was an Elite Auror- damn it!- so she should act like one and just suck it all up! This was her responsibility! She is a strong and indestructible warrior forged through fire, blood, and sweat- but fuck!......

... She was also just fifteen...

And even though she was an Elite Auror made of steel, she still had a heart as fragile as the next young girl.

Maybe it was because of the pressure of leading both the Elite Eight and being the strategist for the Order.

Maybe it was because she had not slept for almost a week now.

Maybe it's because of the all the stressful workloads leading up to their O.W.L.s, or the anxiety from the thought of the D.A. being exposed, or the fact that her conflict with Draco still hadn't been resolved.