Chapter 32

Bea was sure the school year was going in way too fast for her, it was now the end of February and she was sure that she was dreaming about how quickly the months were going. She was currently with Bertie lying in the grass near the black lake, her head was lying in his lap - eyes on the clouds rolling by in the sky above whilst he stroked her hair and she tried to convince him that the blob shaped clouds looked like their friends.

"That's Sirius," she giggled, pointing to a cloud rolling by that looked like a circle, "I think it's an exact replica."

"Oh yes, of course," Bertie snorted and soon shook his head at her antics. She was happier most days than not and he was sure as the days went on, she was getting better but there were still days when his heart broke because of her.

He knew, like his friends did, that whenever she had a bad day it was worse than it would have been last year. Because she was happier now, and last year she knew bad days were most common - and the fear and sadness were moods she was accustomed to.

But now, her bad days felt like something to be disappointed in - but that was just something that irked her. She knew that her bad days would be inevitable, she knew her frustration was justified but she just needed an excuse as to be annoyed, hoping that her annoyance would force her to have more good days.

But, well, when she had admitted this to James - and Beau, and Bertie, and all of her friends for that matter, they had all told her that that wasn't how she was going to get better...that instead of feeling disappointed in the bad days, take the time to reflect on how much good days she had.

"How are you doing, Phoebe?" she smiled at the use of her first name, remembering a time before when he said he wished for a name for her and she had given him permission to use her first name. It hardly stuck, he would find himself so used to calling her Bea that he hardly ever called her Phoebe - only catching himself before talking when he would laugh and call her Phoebe, ranting on and on about how it's such an unfamiliar name to call her now.

"I'm good," she whispered, sitting up and leaning her head on his shoulder, "I think...well, I think I'm almost there. It's been eight months since it happened, and sometimes the nightmares make me feel like it has been a day...it's terrifying. For the longest time, the fact that it was so easy for him to sneak into my house scared me more than anything - and I can remember the nights I didn't sleep.

I couldn't sleep at night when it was still dark outside. I had to wait until the sun was in the sky before I could even settle and even then, I had to make sure that James was awake because he was the one who would never leave my side. I would fall asleep leaning into him and when I would wake up I would still be in the exact same position because he would never move.

I can remember when I'd lay awake all night just staring at the wall and remembering and feeling like I wasn't even in my own body...like I was an outsider and I was just there, and he took everything from me and even talking about it just makes me so...so sick but it's not as bad as it used to be.

It's not as bad as when I couldn't decipher whether my nightmares were even that...if it had happened again or my mind was just being cruel, or when I still had those bruises - and don't get me wrong I still have the wound...I still have the disgusting scars all over my stomach and my legs and I hate them, I hate them so much but there's nothing I can do about it.

But I know," she whispered, tears glazing, and hand so tightly curled around Bertie's that he bit down on his lip to stop from yelping, "I know that if I see him again, I will kill him. I won't hold myself back, I don't care what the consequences of my actions are - but he is out there living his life doing who the fuck he wants, or whatever the fuck he wants whilst he's left me like this.

And I've waited for the auror's to get me justice and they haven't, I've waited around for the world to do what I need to, and I'm sick of it. If I see him again, I'm not giving him a chance.

I'll force him to beg - I'll force him to beg me not to kill him, I'll make him scream as I kill him.

And I'll do it with torture."

"Good." Bertie nodded, "I'll help you look up torture techniques."

She smiled. "How are you doing, Bertie?"

"I'm alright. I mean I don't think I can be as sad as I am-"

"That's bullshit, and you know it," she frowned, "Bert - he was your first love and he admitted to not loving you back, he lied to you and treated you like shit. He hurt someone so much and he lied to you about it, he was a horrible person and you were head over heels for him. You should be sobbing this whole castle down and yet you're stronger than anyone I know."

"He doesn't deserve my tears," he whispered, and she nodded.

"He doesn't. Do you want to talk about something else?"

"Yes, please."

"I realised something a while ago," she said, reaching for his hand, "I realised it and told James because I think I trust him most even though I trust everyone...I mean I think he should have been first to know anyway."

"What did you realise, Bea?" she almost laughed at the use of her nickname, he could hardly stick to calling her by her first name it was rather amusing.

"I realised...that had I not been with James - considering he is the love of my life and I could never see myself without him," she took a deep breath, "I realised that if I was single when Violet told me she loved me, then it would have been easy for me to like her back. I realised I'm bisexual. And I realised even more recently that she was...my first crush."

"Oh, Merlin, Bea," Bertie's eyes widened, "I think that realisation shows just how incredible you are. I think it shows how much you love James, too, and how much you love Violet. I think it shows that you are a fucking inspiration."

She laughed softly, "I think it shows how sappy you are."

He scoffed, "you know I'm glad you told me, I'm glad you trust me enough."

"Bertie," she whispered, "I trust you with my life. I just...I don't want to tell Violet right now. I don't want her thinking there's any hope of me loving her because I got over the crush - I got over whatever feelings I had when I was younger and now I have the boy I'm supposed to be with, I don't want her thinking she will benefit from hanging on to the feelings she has for me."

"I get that," he nodded, "but we need to help her."

"I know we do."

-

"I finished my essay for Sprout," Bea whispered, running her hand through James' hair as his head lay on her stomach and his fingertips traced along the scar over her hip. It was the one she got when she was much younger, it tied in with the ones now along her back and legs and stomach and she hated them all, but he had made sure to remind her anytime he caught sight of them - which was rarely - that they were her scars of survival.

"How did it go?" she squirmed at his touch, whining about it tickling whilst he leaned down - eyes on her and kissed the scar softly, watching the goosebumps spread over the spot and she glared, muttering something about him being a tease whilst his smirk was felt on her skin.

"It was good," she breathed out, gripping his hair tighter than before when he decided kisses got a better reaction, "I painted a picture of what I think the flower would lo- James!"

She gasped when he nibbled on her skin, and he lifted his head, half dazed with a sheepish grin, "...sorry."

"Were you even listening to me?!" she huffed, muttering something about teenage boys, "did you leave a mark?!"

"I can't help but want you!" he exclaimed, trying to fight his cause but ending up grinning once more when she glared at him, "you seemed to be enjoying it!"

"That's...not the point," she trailed off, meeting his smirk with a flip of her middle finger, "it did feel good."

He traced his fingertips over her skin again, "that's a good thing, Bea. You can't live in fear of being touched...but in saying that - you tell me to stop, and I stop."

She was silent for a few moments, taking a deep breath and watching his hand trace her skin, "I don't want you to stop - but! You could at least listen when I talk to you."

He scoffed, leaning up so that he was hovering over her and kissed her, "alright, please talk to me."

She moved him, so he was lying beside her, and rested her head on his chest, slipping her hand under his t-shirt to trace her fingers on his stomach, "I want to tell you something about...about that night."

He tensed, and she shook her head, "it's alright, I promise. I just - after it happened...when I was lying there with Remus holding me...I was lying there trying to think of everyone needing to know I loved them. I thought of all of our friends, every one of them but it was...so hard to think of you because the ever thought of leaving you was even more pain than I could take in that moment.

I didn't want to die - I wanted a future, and I thought of my future lying there but I realised that the only thing I could want was a future with you. The future I was thinking of - and do think of involves you a great deal, James. It involves you to the point that the thought of you not in it just sounds completely odd."

He smiled. He smiled so wide his eyes crinkled, but those same eyes held tears he wished not to let spill.

"At Christmas," he said, shaking his head, "all those months ago - Merlin it seems like a week ago - but when I saw you with your hair again...I just, I knew I needed you. I always did know that, but we have been through too much, we've been through so much and we'll go through more - whether it's good or bad, it doesn't matter because I'll have you and you will always have me and I hope that for you, I can make anything bad that we go through a little more bearable."

"Trust me, James," she lifted her hand to his cheek, guiding him to look at her and slowly kissing him, "you make my life easier just by being there, you have no idea. You do so much for me...I don't think there's any way I could possibly repay you."

He nuzzled his nose to her temple, arms tightly wrapped around her and he lifted her hand, kissing the finger that her ring was on, and he whispered as softly as he possibly could, "there is one thing you could do for me."

"What may that be?"

He brushed his finger over the promise ring, "that would be...allowing me to replace this with an engagement ring one day."

Her heart raced and the smile on her lips was still there when she turned and kissed him, "is that a promise?"

He nodded, "that is definitely a promise."