Chapter 9

She had grown accustomed to the stares she got as she walked down the halls of the castle, though usually, she was alone or with Bertie, she hardly ever was seen with James, never mind James with his arm around her as he mumbled quiet words in her ear and she kept her arm wrapped around his waist.

Intimacy wasn't the best thing for her but with James, it wasn't intimacy, but it was an escape, it was something she could think of instead of the pain, something she could bask in and feel comfortable instead of feeling horrible. She didn't smile but she was still there, she didn't need to smile to be herself, she didn't need to be happy and James finally got that - he talked to her as though she was the girl he had left on the platform last year and she preferred that.

She wished her friends were like that, she wished she could listen to them speak and not have to do the same but still be involved. She felt alone and isolated and sad and the fact that they were so closed off and different made her feel worse because she knew it was her fault.

James had to go to class soon and she was on route to her classroom that filled her paint supplies and every time she entered it she smiled. It was a smile to herself of the memories of that classroom, it was a seemingly random classroom to the Professors who picked it for her and allowed her to paint there but it wasn't random to her.

It was the classroom that she and James had their first kiss, the classroom that they had escaped to plenty of times to just hold and touch and be with each other without having to think of the consequences or the fact that Remus didn't like them together.

Thinking of that, of Remus not wanting them together seemed almost laughable.

"I wish," she whispered, leaning into him and tightening her grip on his hand, "that you watched me paint. But at the same time, I don't want you to see me paint."

He kissed her temple as they turned onto an empty hallway and she stopped them, leaning against the wall with him in front of her - close to her, but it was just so she could talk quietly, so he would still be able to hear her, but she didn't have to raise her voice in order for that to happen, "why don't you want me to see you paint, Bumble?"

She leaned against the wall, her head lifted to stare at him and he couldn't help but smile at her. He had noticed that she didn't look as exhausted, the bags under her eyes were next to gone and he was thankful that she was looking brighter.

She looked gorgeous to him, and he couldn't deny that seeing her clad in dungarees with paint all over her and her hair messier than usual had messed with his head more times than one. It was different to see her like that, with dungarees over her and paint all over her and he thought she looked simply adorable, and he had even commented on it.

Seeing the blush spread across her cheek was a masterpiece no one could recreate.

"I don't know," she said quietly, always quietly but he never minded. It was just nice to hear her voice again, to see her eyes brighter than usual and to have her close and talking and slowly becoming stronger.

But she was strong, she was always strong, and that strength had never left her regardless of what she thought of herself, in James' eyes and a lot of people's eyes she was still the strongest girl they had ever known.

Even Beau thought that.

"I think," she shrugged, "that if I get better, I'll show you."

"You could paint a stick figure and I'd think it was the most beautiful thing in the world," James whispered, stepping closer, "second to you, of course."

She stared at him, and slowly she reached up to cup his cheek, her thumb swiping along his cheekbone and a sigh leaving her lips, "no matter what you're still the biggest flirt in this entire world."

"It's part of my job as the best boyfriend ever," he smirked, and he could see the corners of her lips tugging up whilst she nodded.

"I can't argue with that," she said, dropping her hand and instead reaching for his own.

She pulled him down the hall, she had decided to walk him to class that day. He had defence against the dark arts and she would've had Transfigurations if she was to go but she couldn't just yet, Bertie didn't think it was a big to deal to take notes for her, Violet took notes too and she gave them to Bertie to give to her which hurt her more than the girl knew.

She was ready to snap, and she knew James knew but she had warned him not to say anything, they needed to talk to her themselves or it was pointless. She wanted them to snap, to shout and scream at her that they missed her because they walked on eggshells and she was sick of it, she wanted them back.

She wanted to sit with Sirius, to smile at his jokes and Peters and Remus' and she wanted to talk to Violet. Lily Evans didn't speak to her even after last year when they had established each other as close friends and she missed her too, she saw her in the halls alone because she didn't have Severus anymore, but she knew she was close to her friends, she was with them.

"Have fun in class," she said as they stopped in front of the door and he snorted, pulling on her hand and pressing the softest kiss to her head and she let go of his hand, ushering him to enter the classroom as she walked down the hallway in the other direction.

❁

"Bea."

Nothing but silence from the girl kneeling in front of a canvas, completely focused and tears streaming down her face and words in her mind and sadness in her heart. She had been in there for hours upon end, no food in her stomach but she didn't care. She forgot about herself when she painted, and she didn't even know there was someone behind her.

"Bea."

Nothing again and she mixed the brown with the red to make it darker and streaked it across the hand she had painted that gripped onto the body and it wasn't good, she wasn't naturally gifted and it didn't look as good as she wanted it to but it was still something and it was still easy to make out what it was.

"Bea!"

She jumped, paint brush on the ground and her head turning around to look at Beau behind her who had a tray filled with food and a frown on his lips. Her painting shouldn't be used for what was on the canvas, she didn't need that reminder of what happened to her and it sent nausea to his stomach with every second he looked at it.

The paint dripped down the canvas and it looked so real, it looked like blood.

"Don't do that!" she snapped, reaching down and picking up the paintbrush but he took it from her hand after he had sat down the tray, silently cleaning up the mess he had made with his wand. She looked at the tray of food he had brought and then back to him, her eyebrow raised, and he sat down beside her.

"You need to eat," he gestured to the tray, soon moving to pick it up and sitting it in front of her even when she shook her head.

"I'm not hungry." She shrugged, moving to turn back to her painting but he grabbed her arm, "Beau, let me go."

"Why did you paint that?" his voice was a whisper and there was pain in his eyes and she wondered if it reminded him of what he had gone through and the thought sent guilty into her stomach. His eyes were on the painting and she was silent because there was nothing to say.

Actually, no. There was so much to say but she didn't know where to start, she had so much in her mind and so much she needed to get out, but she just couldn't.

But Beau was always there, whether she liked it or not he made sure he talked to her and was her friend because he didn't care about that part of her - it hurt him to know that she went through that like he had with something similar, but it didn't define her.

She wasn't Bea, the girl who was raped and left for dead.

She was just Bea.

"No one is talking about it," she said, and she didn't want people to talk about it but it was something unexplainable, they walked on eggshells around her and yet they never brought up why, it was as though they just did and the reason as to why had died, "I don't...want people to talk about it but I'm just the girl that was hurt now, aren't I? the different Bea from last year...I'm so different people could start calling me Phoebe again because I'm not the same. I'm not happy, I'm not me, I'm a - I feel like a ghost."

"What is your name?"

"Bea."

"It is?" he asked, nodding his head in agreement and soon handing her the goblet from the tray, "you're Bea fucking Lupin and who cares if you're different from last year?! Bea, you've been dragged to fucking hell and you're still sitting here and I can tell you that twenty times but you're still so fucking amazing."

"Three times you swore there," she said, "fucking this, fucking that, fucking you, you need to branch out on your curse words."

He smirked, "I didn't know you last year. I don't know what you were like last year but from what I've heard you were kind and nice and you cared for everyone and you know what, if I had to describe you that's how I'd describe you. You are going through, so much shit and you haven't told me to fuck off and leave you alone, you could've pushed me away every single time and left me alone but you didn't, I saw you with your friend Bertie, and I saw you with your boyfriend and I know how much you love them, and I know how much you miss your friends.

You are caring as fuck, and you are Bea, and if you're sad then you are sad, and you can't help that. But there will be a time when you wake up and you realise you aren't that sad anymore and who knows when that will be, a month? A year? I don't know and neither do you, but you shouldn't force yourself to relive the pain you felt in hopes of it making you feel something other than the sadness.

You aren't just a girl who is hurt, Bea, you aren't what happened to you. It doesn't define you and it never will. But you know what can define you? the fact that you just fucking love plants, the fact that you are painting and it's good and you haven't been doing it for long, but it helps you and some people can't even get out of bed never mind walk the halls and seem okay, but you do and that takes fucking everything."

She climbed over the paints and mess around her in order to sit beside him and she pushed herself up and she hugged him, she hugged him so tightly and he hugged her back because every single word he spoke was true, he meant every word and she knew that.

And she believed it.

❁

[A/N hey guys it's your favourite meme coming at you with a ~shameless self promo~

okay here's the diddly damn deal, the october week just finished and during it i decided "you know what, i want a completed original book."

so i have this book called Tea For Two and literally today i have completed it. It's not all published yet but updates are DAILY and i would really love if you checked it out.

it means a lot to me, this book, it's the first in a three book series and it's also an O R I G I N A L like i have said, and i'm proud that i've finished it and i actually really love it.

i would very much love if you checked it out and read and hopefully enjoy it because it's been a crazy week but i've been loving writing it!

that is all, happy reading and also i hope you have/had a good day!💛]