Used to Being Alone PV

The golden sunlight filtering in through the windows of the library highlighted the little specks of dust gently dancing in the air, and Dee's thoughts had grown increasingly slow over the past few hours. It was February still, winter, arguably, but looking outside at the bright sun in an endless blue sky, it felt like spring was coming.

Was it wise, spending this much time on research with Harlan that would, for all she could tell, only keep leading them into dead ends, the same way it had been for months? Likely not. She had N.E.W.T.s to prepare for, real, tangible exams that would decide her future, approaching day by day. All this time spent digging into ancient curses and hags and blood magic should probably be poured into preparing for the final exams of her education at Hogwarts instead. Yet, here she was.

It was hard to define why she felt the need to support Harlan this strongly, and she'd stopped trying weeks ago. She liked him, of course, they'd become close friends just by the time they spent together. He was smart, ambitious with a quick tongue and wit, all qualities she valued. Her motivation was more muddied than helping out a friend, however. There was protectiveness, over someone younger than her who had gone through something no one should ever experience. Maybe an urge to save those coming after her from going through as much horror as she and her friends had, preserve their innocence a bit longer. And through all that, an ugly, dark thread of guilt that she avoided examining too closely for fear of what she might find.

Dee had been staring at the same line of text in the dusty old book in front of her for several minutes now, eyes tracing the lines of the same few letters over and over again, unaware of time passing. Harlan's presence was familiar at her side, comfortable from habit, from hours spent just like this, whether on their research, writing essays for class, or otherwise. Harlan had woven himself smoothly into the fabric of her life.

"Hmm?" the acknowledgement came automatically when addressed, a soft humming sound more than an actual word. She only blinked herself free of her trance when Harlan continued speaking, half a second delay setting in before she comprehended the words. She shrugged, just barely, eyes still on the page before she shifted, turning to meet Harlan's eyes, dark hair falling over her shoulder. "If we find something, it'll all be wor-mmm."

Dee hadnt quite realised how close Harlan was. Hadn't comprehended his expression, the look in his eyes, the intention that flared up just a moment before he leaned in. The end of her reply was muffled into lips that were suddenly on hers, warm and unfamiliar and not what she'd expected. Or wanted.

Alarm flared through her veins, bright and sharp and glaring, and she stayed in the kiss for just a second before she jerked back. She was on her feet before she knew it, the movement abrupt but somehow still graceful, the same way she moved in a duel. Her chair clattered to the floor behind her, too loud in the calm silence of the library. The sunlight had lost it's comforting warmth.

If she'd been a Muggle, Dee's instinct might have been to slap him. She wasn't, though. Dealla was a witch to the marrow of her bones, and thus Harlan would find himself with a wand to the throat instead. Despite it all, her voice was quiet, but no less threating because of it. "What the fuck?" Her heart was beating too fast in her chest, teeth on edge. "What are you doing? I have a boyfriend, Harlan."

@Harlan Montgomery

With almost anyone else, this situation would have been easily resolved. A well-placed hex and a sharp-edged threat followed by a dramatic departure. Any future encounters, cutting glares and icy silence. Dealla Prince was no pushover, and her forgiveness was hard earned. Harlan wasn't supposed to be part of the exceptions, and she hadn't been aware that he was, until now; he'd sneaked his way in through a backdoor that wasn't supposed to exist, part of a wider labyrinth of circumstances, too complex and interwoven to untangle, let alone escape so easily.

Dee's heart was tripping in her chest, beating too fast, breathing too fast, too much oxygen and not enough air. Hand trembling, she only dug her wand in deeper, staring down at Harlan's wide eyes. She could feel his throat move beneath the tip of her wand when he swallowed, struggling for words. The image suddenly overlaying her vision had her blinking, hard. A different blond man, a scar, a curse looming over him, too. She'd failed him, she couldn't, couldn't do it again.

Memories played in her mind, scraps she'd tried to suppress, I have to try and I'm going to show you, words that had cut deep and left scars that were still healing. "I thought you liked me," Harlan said, and Dee shuddered, from her shoulders down to the tips of her toes, caught between memories and present. Opened her mouth for a cutting retort and instead swayed on her feet, wand dropping to her side. Counted the time by her heartbeats, trying for words where there were none.

She exhaled, ragged and painful, throat tight with unshed tears. "Ja-" No, not Jack. Not Jack, despite what the guilt roiling in her stomach, writhing, sickening, tried to tell her. Not Jack, once again coming back to haunt her just when she thought she'd left him in her past.

And still, apparently she hadn't let go of him as thoroughly as she had thought. Was still unwilling to let go completely, of her memories, the guilt she'd carried in a corner of her heart for the past two years, because why else would it be so hard to reject Harlan? To tell him to fuck off, because no, no, she wouldn't like him, not in a million years. She'd hurt people before, she could hurt Harlan, too, even though the parallels to rejecting Jack on top of the Owlery made her want to throw up. Even though she'd written protecting Harlan right on top of her list of goals for the year, and she didn't want him hurt, she could do it. Could extinguish the hope in his eyes, the yearning, same as she'd done to Jack back then. But what if she said that, and he left, and she lost him, same as Jack - lost her chance at redemption, too?

The thought paralysed her, selfish, selfish. She recognised the egoism for what it was, but couldn't help it. Because it would hurt her, too, more deeply than she was ready to risk... except that risking the alternative was much, much worse.

She belonged to Mad as he did to her, fiercely. Mad, who had his own trauma but still willingly shared hers, never pushing but always offering, an open door for her to walk through when she wanted it. Who'd given her the air she needed to breathe, but held her tightly to keep her from falling apart when she'd finally told him her entire story; whispered against his neck with her eyes squeezed shut tightly because it was too hard to talk about while facing the world at the same time. She wasn't going to lose him, not because of some stupid Gryffindor kid who she'd foolishly let in close enough to hurt; both her and him.

Her reaction must look strange to Harlan, out of proportion for the situation; colour drained from the scene and her skin. Silence too long, her usual self-confidence cracked. She shivered, wrapped her arms around herself, and shook her head, the movement jerky. "No," she whispered. "I won't." A motion, quick as a wing beating, to wipe the tear from her cheek before it could fully escape. "And you're an ass for suggesting it."

@Harlan Montgomery
Mentioning @Madhup Hexum