"What's wrong?" PV Anna Blackberry

Oh, what a cool weather it was today... It wasn't cold or hot, and the wind scarcely brushed against the walls of the castle of Hogwarts, the oh-so known school of magic, nor on the witches and wizards that served as its students. Today was a perfect day to wear whatever dress or shirt you'd like, as hardly anything at all within the common sense would leave you either shivering or sweating.
On days like these, a black-haired hufflepuff girl would normally be with her favorite frilly dresses, covered in laces and the most delicate and colorful flowers she could put her hands on. Normally, she would be talking until her mouth went dry as a result of the sheer good mood she'd be in, feeling beautiful and unbothered by the heat or cold.
Normally, she would. But not today.
In the past two weeks, she had made a friend, a gryffindor in his first year of Hogwarts. He was no less than lovely in her eyes. He wasn't bothered by her excessive eye contact and even reciprocated it in a similar fashion. He didn't appear to desire to cut her tongue off or defenestrate her when she went on those endless rambles about anything she could possibly think about.
Well... If he DID want to do either of those things, he didn't show it and that was enough for her. She actually liked him, which she'd often reinforce, enjoyed his sense of style, which she hardly would ever shut up about, and was somehow always impressed by the magic cold wind of his stylish umbrella no matter how many times she saw it. Of course, she wouldn't stop talking about that, either. The day she met him, he had commented he always feels hot, and Anna promised to weave him a new cape with a lighter, more breathable fabric, and maybe it'd help cool his skin off; after all, who could possibly withstand feeling hot all the time? That same day at night, she sent a letter to her parents through her beloved baby owl, the sassy little Cloud, and asked them to give her some fabric she could use to make her new friend a cape, explaining the entire situation. Aware they would necessarily ask for his last name, as to make sure she'd never associate with what they considered to be the wrong people, she in advance asked him so when her family read the letter, they'd know who they're sending their cherished money and investment for.

"ᕼᥱ ᑲᥱꙆoᥒɠ⳽ to tᖾᥱ ᕼoꙆꙆoωᥲყ ƒᥲຕɩꙆყ."


Her family didn't answer. Not at first. It was strange. They were so fond of her they'd always answer letters immediately after receiving them. Even her stoic and reserved father, Jacob, would always send back a letter, no matter how small it was, if his daughter wrote him anything. Her mother, Bethany, so dramatically loving as only she was, would naturally send her the longest letters of all. Even her brother didn't answer her, and he was only a kid with not many tasks to busy himself with that would stop him from answering her. Not only that, because they had grown together as each other's only friend of the same age, they of course turned to be each other's favorite person. Of course, perhaps tied with their parents, but the bond of sister and brother was irreplaceable in a way nobody else could understand; not even their parents, though the loving Anna could never admit this. Oliver has nothing to keep him busy for so long and would never ignore his sister.
And yet he did. Why?
She send a second letter. Did they perhaps not receive the first one? Maybe it got lost on the way.
Again, it was not answered by her parents. But she didn't have to wait for long before she received a reply, from Oliver. Not in his usual silly and whimsical writing with cool dragons drawn over the paper. Specifically, there was a part from his letter that kept playing on her head.
"𝓜𝓸𝓶 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓪𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓷𝓮𝔀 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓱𝓮'𝓼 𝓪 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓪𝔂. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂'𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓲𝓰𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓼𝓪𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓹𝔂. 𝓜𝓸𝓶 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓷𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓭𝓪𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼. 𝓐𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓮 𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓫𝓲𝓰 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓲𝓽, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓰𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰. 𝓘𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓼𝔂, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓘 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂'𝓵𝓵 𝓼𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷."

Anna avoided talking about the cape she was so excited about. If she brought it up, she'd have to talk about how her parents didn't answer her for so abnormally long, much unlike them. She didn't want to say what her family was discussing about, and she especially didn't want to remember those words when she laughed around Azrael. She couldn't forget it. Why couldn't she just forget it? It never seemed to be in her mind until she actually felt comfortable with him. She'd brush it off and argue back to the back of her mind that Azrael was a nice and decent person, and there was no reason at all for her family to dislike him. Maybe they had one or two bad experiences with his family or maybe didn't like someone from there, but that wouldn't define or change Azrael as his own person and his own identity. Right?

...A few days ago, she received another letter. This time, from her parents. More specifically, her mother, with one or two commentaries from her grandmother Genevieve at the bottom. The letter was lengthy, but none of its words quite got to Anna as much as the second paragraph, written in her mother's quick cursive handwriting.
"𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓂. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝑜𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓋𝒶𝓂𝓅𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓈, 𝑜𝓇 𝑒𝓁𝓈𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓉 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓃 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓅𝓈𝑒-𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓈? 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝑒 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓋𝒶𝓂𝓅𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓁𝒻-𝒷𝓇𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓈. 𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒹𝒽𝒶𝓂𝓅𝒾𝓇𝓈 𝑔𝑜 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒹𝑜. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒. 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓎, 𝐼'𝓂 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹. 𝒫𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓃𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃. 𝒲𝒽𝓎 𝒹𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔? 𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓅𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁... 𝒰𝓃𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓃 𝓊𝓁𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃. 𝒟𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹? 𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂. 𝐼'𝓂 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈. 𝑀𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝒾𝓉'𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓂. 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝑜𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒷𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈."


She didn't realize how much her hands were shaking nor the single drop of cold sweat leaking down her forehead. That was the last way she'd ever think of Azrael. He was quiet, yes, but undoubtedly polite and kind. She couldn't quite absorb the other paragraph about Bethany studying together with the Holloway and being weirded out by them all the time and how everyone always seemed uncomfortable near them. But what did put the nail in the coffin and cessed any argument from Anna was her grandmother's final words.
"𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔶."

...
"I would never...", Anna thought, still forcing herself to read each word.

"𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔴𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔡𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔞𝔠𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔥𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔟𝔶 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫 𝔬𝔟𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔠𝔢. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔱 𝔫𝔬𝔴, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔶 𝔴𝔢 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰. ℑ𝔣 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔩, 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔶 ℑ'𝔡 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔣𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 ℑ 𝔡𝔬, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔡𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔶 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢, 𝔦𝔫𝔳𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰, 𝔢𝔣𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔶 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔤𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔰𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔬𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔯𝔲𝔦𝔫 𝔬𝔯 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔶. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔠𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔶."







She didn't have to be that harsh.
There was no need at all to say any of that. If she had just told Anna to stop, she would have. None of those harsh words were necessary. At first, Anna felt lightheaded, dizzy, and leaned against the wall of her dormitory with a throbbing head, so certain she was going to faint from pain and stress. Her family was everything to her and all she had. She grew up with them and only them, and they represented all the happiness and safety of her life. Her thoughts sped up unbearably to terrors of loss and memories of an abandonment that never even happened.
To shame her own family, the ones who had done so much for her and were the most important thing in her life. She was more loyal to them than to any other person or entity that existed or could come to exist. How could she not? Being a Blackberry was a source of pride, and it meant being loved, supported and cared for, to always have someone by your side no matter what happens. It's all she had and everything she couldn't lose. Anything but this. At some point, she let go of the letter, not wishing to think about it any longer, and left her room in quick steps.
At first, she didn't realize Azrael was next to her in the corridors when she was outside, but walked faster when she noticed him, lowering her head so she could give herself the excuse of not having seen him.
Over the course of the following days, she refrained from thinking about it. She just needed to know she shouldn't contact Azrael. But she couldn't bear to tell him the reason. How could she ever say that it's because her family believes him and his family to be dangerous monsters? Especially when she can't bring herself to see him as any of that? How could she look at her friend and call him a creepy blood parasite? And yet, she was not allowed to talk to him, lest she disgraced her family. She'd walk faster when he was around, looking down so she wouldn't have to see him.
Curiously, he began showing up in the same places she did. It was hard to pull away from him subtly when he kept appearing in the cherished library of the school, near the tree close to the Great Lake Anna always sits under, and standing behind her waiting for her to finish whatever business she has so she'll turn around and see him. It was each time harder to pretend she WASN'T blatantly avoiding him. She'd unceremoniously slam books shut and march away from the library when he was too close to her there, suddenly give up on sketching when he was in the Great Lake, and extend conversations indefinitely, pretending she wasn't noticing his presence behind her so he wouldn't get a chance to talk to her.
It hurted. As if pushing him away wasn't painful enough, he'd still try to stay, though it was mostly because he didn't quite understood what was happening or why she did she seem to suddenly have an interest in approaching random hufflepuffs and inviting them to hang out in the common room the moment they saw each other in the corridors. It was... Annoying, even. If he left her alone, then she wouldn't have to keep pushing him away. If he left her so easily, at least she'd have an excuse to dislike him. But he did neither. It was beginning to get in her head. Is she really going to believe the words of warning about his danger when he's just... Trying to talk to his friend? Despite her confrontational nature, she hardly defied her family or reflected upon their beliefs critically, but... What sense did any of this made? And yet, their words were the only thing she could get attached to, amidst the madness and chaos this situation was. They've always been her stable presence, and she feels everything but stable right now, so she chose to cling onto their words and trust them more than she trusted herself.
That day, she didn't feel particularly good. She couldn't tell why, but she felt agitated, and couldn't focus on classes well. She fidgeted with her penguin plushie companion, Aoibheann, instead of writing notes. Quite the change, given she's such a nerdy teacher's pet. Not that she thought about that, her mind always wandered off from meaningful lessons to... Nothing. Nothing at all. And when she realized, it was past midday, and she was on her bed, fed with something she couldn't remember, much like she couldn't quite remember what had happened at all in her day. She didn't want to rot away in that bed, however, and maybe actually trying to talk to someone she knew would help her pay attention at something again; maybe having fun would distract her from the unsettling empty hole where her torax felt like it should be. With Aoibheann forgotten on her pillows, she put on a dress that she felt fitted her mood and left, walking through the corridors of Hogwarts. The always-bustling school somehow pulled her from her internal world, and she looked at her surroundings carefully for the first time in the day, seeking for someone she knew, maybe a friend of hers. And, most certainly, she did. She found a friend in the corridors of Hogwarts. But... It was the last person she wanted.
Azrael.
Something turned a switch inside Anna, and she suddenly was aware of everything happening around her. She committed the mistake of looking him in the eyes as he just so very happened to head towards her direction, and so the hufflepuff sneaked to the abandoned toilets, only for him to follow soon afterwards. The bathroom smelled disgustingly, and there was no good place for her to hide in right now. Why did she choose to hide there again?... Oh. Right. It was the only place nearby she could enter and possibly hide in. Not that she's particularly well-hidden now, though.
The thing is, he didn't seem angry. In his normally unexpressive big blue eyes, there was some type of sorrow. But not anger. Would she have gotten angry if someone suddenly began avoiding her?... Yes. She undoubtedly would have gotten offended and angry. So why didn't he? How confusing. And yet, she could understand to some degree the pain in his eyes. It was deep, like hers was, but she still didn't look at him... Which isn't even half subtle, for someone who tends to make such long and intense eye contact while standing so bizarrely close to the person who she talked to. Azrael never seemed to particularly mind, though.
"... You didn't upset me."
She said simply. She looked... Conflicted. Clearly, she wanted to stay away from him, and her lack of eye contact revealed as much, yet her voice held the same fondness it did when she talked about his sense of fashion, or when she was impressed by the existence of his umbrella by the sixth time, or when she nudged him into talking about his day and his tastes because she liked to hear his voice and everything he had to say, even if it the contents were lacking and his voice was monotone.
Truth be said, it hurted to hear him apologize. In her mind, she blamed his family without actually believing any of the words she thought. "He didn't do anything wrong, it was his family that...", and she never finished the thought. Of course, his family, too, was innocent and had done nothing. It was her family that decided her affiliation with a member of the creepy family Holloway would stain their respectable name. But she couldn't bring herself to insult her family. Or his. She couldn't put the blame on anyone at all, and it hurted even more. She had nothing to detest and blame for this tangled situation. And... Especially not him. Not when he, even now, was just trying to figure out why his friend suddenly cessed all communication with him, and nothing else. She couldn't either hurt him and tell him anything else about why she's so avoidant, nor can she stain the name of the family that has been nothing but loving and cherishing towards her.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
She cursed herself for not holding back her tongue. She should've stayed quiet in this situation, lest she digs herself a deeper grave. Maybe she really was too impulsive. And to say this without planning to even explain the situation to him... Maybe she really was selfish. "No", she stopped herself, "I can't think that... I'm not selfish. I'm not a bad person."
She bitterly looked at the broken tiles of the abandoned wall. They felt more attractive and safe to look at than Azrael's eyes. She didn't have to confront the consequence of her mistakes, of making him believe he made a friend just to leave him, of having done as much as talking to him that day. If she erased that day from having ever existed, if wiped their memories or went back in time and stopped herself from having approached him, none of this would have to happen, and they would be able to go through with their lives without any of the mess she made.
Looking at the tiles, she didn't have to see whatever anger or sadness he could have. It was safer that way. And although she logically knew he wasn't about to just walk away and let her go, she really hoped he would.

The more time passed, the more trapped Anna felt, and with that, came the hyper-awareness of that moment. The coldness of the wall she leaned against, the disgusting smell of the bathroom, a weird, nearly unnoticeable noise coming from one of the stalls. Yet, her eyes remained locked on Azrael's, though she looked at him as though he was more of a hunting dog circling a rabbit than the friend she had gotten so close to for the past few weeks. She gritted her teeth together, and fidgeted with her fingers as if she was holding something; normally, it'd be her penguin plushie, but since it was forgotten on her bed, she pretended its weight and warmth was on her hand and she played with its wings (more accurately, flippers) to regulate herself now before she said something by impulse.
"The issue isn't the cape!"
.......Well, that didn't take long.
She spoke louder and faster than she meant to. Not that she felt strongly about weaving a cape, but it was the last thing that could possibly bother or overwhelm her. Although weaving and crocheting weren't quite hobbies of hers, fashion was one of the things she was most interested in, and so she'd end up doing both of those activities constantly. She had already made herself and her brother much more complicated things, a simple cape would be the least of her worries. If anything, due to her sheer perfectionism and habit of overdoing herself when it comes to clothes, she'd likely need a lot of self-control to not do something more elaborate with the cape, such as a illustrations on the back or extra layers of cloth to add color and texture. In a worst-case scenario, making a simple black cape was on the more underwhelming side.
"It's... you."
And yet, no more than twenty seconds ago, she claimed he hadn't done anything wrong and she wasn't upset at her. Although words came out softer than the normal and it felt wrong to speak, she still kept going, as if somehow that'd clear matters and make him leave, when really she was just extending it further.
"No, not exactly you, it's your fami--..."
She didn't finish. She didn't have or want to. The meaning was already complete. She realized what she said and how deep she had buried her own grave. She wasn't going to get out of this easily, was she?
She looked tense, as though somehow it appeared she'd push him away and run past him, far away where not him, not her grandmother, not her mother could see her. She'd like that. She was sure Oliver would understand... Right now, it'd be nice to hide in a forest with him. They could discuss dragons and not worry about anything. And they especially wouldn't have to worry about their family despising or disgusting Anna.

Azrael didn't seem particularly upset; rather, he asked which one of his parents had done anything wrong. Which would be fine, if she wasn't pulling away from him as a direct result of the rumors of his family's associations with the vampires and possible criminality, and he hadn't spoke with that conspicuous tone, as if his father was regularly accused of committing felonies. It... Didn't really make Anna trust him or his family any more.
And, unhelpfully, she didn't even know what exactly to answer. "How the hell should I know??", she thought in some degree of confusion, holding her hands against each other as if pressing something really tightly. The rumors surrounded his whole family, not just his father or his mother. And yet, she remembers clearly that her mother had written, in her letter, about why some specific members are creepy and suspicious, but when Anna read that part, she was still stuck on the second paragraph, and although her eyes did pass the entire letter, she only remembered some phrases with blanks between every other word to the point she couldn't understand the meaning at all. And yet, she clearly remembered what she hoped to forget.
"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓂."
"𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝑜𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒷𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈."
"It's... Everyone, it's just that... And you... It's..."
She couldn't keep talking about something she didn't know about. She didn't have the courage to re-read that letter carefully enough to know exactly what her mother thought of them. After all, a side of her still believed that the Holloway didn't deserve any of this, and didn't want to hear Azrael, even if accidentally, incriminate himself any further. Yet, the other side desired to follow her family's wishes, even if that meant disliking her friend and his family which she had never met and couldn't have an opinion on. Neither of those sides wanted to stay there, alone with Azrael, talking to him like a cornered animal. So, instead of trying to continue the explanation, she said something else.
"...Leave me alone."
Her voice came out meek, hesitant, weak. She didn't like this fear and shyness, it didn't fit her in the slightest. Being timid was never part of her personality. So she stepped closer, and repeated it in what was a slightly more confident voice.
"I want you to leave me alone. I don't want to..."
Aaand her voice lost its assertiveness again, but she forced herself to continue even though she sounded flimsy and didn't have the courage to look him in the eyes now. Instead, she looked at the ground in front of him.
"...Associate with you, or... With your family."
If she pushed him away enough, maybe this would end easier. Maybe he'd forget her faster, and she wouldn't have to agonize over hurting him for longer. If she ended this now, they wouldn't have to struggle over this anymore. She didn't want to push him away nor did she want to be mean to him, but the Blackberry name and its people were all she could conceive having... So she'd listen and obey. The idea of not doing so didn't even cross her mind. Even though it hurted her, it hurted him, and it pushed away someone she had grown to care for and that grew to like her, too. It didn't matter. At the end of the day, Anna is a Blackberry before she was Azrael's friend.

Anna allowed her hands to hang next to her body, and drowned with relief the guilt she felt and the dread of having to keep looking at someone she knew was hurting. Someone she knew she disappointed and confused; she had left him for no reason she could explain at all. Or at least she felt like she couldn't. The whole situation was so messy, and either way, not saying anything was the better path. The less he knew, the less he'd reach out with a resolution, the easier this would be, the less painful this end would be. The less it took and the less they thought about it, the quicker it'd stop hurting.
And so, she walked towards the door of the bathroom. Her movements have always been smooth, though now she had a bland expression, contrasting her previous visible distress. Even then, the simple decision of walking through a door felt like it'd be final, and she couldn't find it in her to leave this place immediately. If she did, this would end faster, she wouldn't have to find an excuse to leave whatever room he entered, they wouldn't have to talk again. Surely they'd forget each other in months or years; they were friends for two weeks, and nothing more. She had no reason to extend that encounter for longer, but even when she touched the door to leave, it felt wrong to just... Go. She was the one who talked to him first and she was the one pushing him away without a clear reason. She stood just to Azrael, looking at the wall of the corridor instead of him, as if contemplating, though she didn't look quite "there". When she opened her mouth, she didn't realize her lips had parted, and when the voice left her throat, it didn't reach her ears as coherent words; her own soothing, fatalistic, gentle and bleak whispers felt like white noise, and she could not comprehend the words she said.
"It's okay. Apologies won't fix it. Sorry can't undo the piles of crime accusations against your family. They won't make your association with vampires disappear. Or the suspects of dark rituals. Sorry can't make anyone be seen as any less creepy and sorry won't fix my life if I'm the shameful failure of my family."
With this final phrase, she stepped forward as though she was in a confusing dream. She blinked a few times, and felt her heart speed up again. "I'm not supposed to be here" .
She shouldn't be here, nor next to that boy whose identity was suddenly irrelevant in comparison to the fear of something metaphorical, metaphysical, like the pain of being ripped from a loving motherly hug and thrown into the cold, unforgiving snow, left to freeze alone and helpless. Fear made her want to run to wherever was warm, safe and away from here. Her peripheral vision blurred, restricting her sight to a circular tunnel in which she could only see the corridor that headed to the Hufflepuff Cellar, and her body strongly urged her to leave this dangerous place.
With this, Anna ran away, leaving both Azrael and the abandoned toilets behind, and headed straight to her bed where she had her plushies, her thick blanket and wasn't at risk of seeing eyes of disgust or anger or contempt from her family or anyone else.