Chapter Fourteen: Voices

POV: Emily

I was heading toward the greenhouses where we Gryffindors have Herbology with the Ravenclaws when I noticed a shadow following after mine. There were too many thoughts running circles in my head, creating jumbled images and incoherent mutterings, that for the last seven floors of the castle, main corridor, and the long pebbled pathway of the grounds I thought the extra shadow was just part of my mess of a brain. I took the opportunity to look over my shoulder when a huddle of First Years passed me; the shadow following after mine belonged to James Sirius Potter.

Of course.   

Sighing, I turned back to the stretch of grass ahead of me as James began to shove the First Years that got in his way. I made sure to not meet his eye or else he'd take it as a welcome sign for him to talk to me. 

Most days, I was all for having a conversation with James. Most days, I would gravitate toward James. There was something about him—a way he had about himself that made me believe he could conquer the world on his own. His voice had the power to do that; when he spoke to me, his words found my eardrums like music finds the soul. Every little syllable that passed his mouth was a melody, something light and carefree. It was like the sound of the wind. 

He was the wind.

He was light, too. He was the type of blinding light anyone would follow down dark roads—down dark, treacherous roads that are all laid out in front of me.

Still...It was on days like these that I did not need him around. I did not need his constant, self-imposed urge to protect me from the world. I needed to be alone. But James does not do well when it comes to respecting boundaries (just like the wind cannot be secluded behind a limit line).

"Em!"

Just as James' shadow was a few inches from aligning with mine, it came to an abrupt stop when my best friend's voice drifted toward me.

I turned to find Scorpius rushing in my direction, his robes flapping all around, platinum hair disheveling, too. I could have laughed at the scene, but his hardened expression left no room for it. 

James must have noticed what I had because he slowly retreated back, meshing in with a group of students. I did not miss the sad glint in his brown eyes.

"Hey, Scor," I greeted with a smile.

"Why was Potter following you?" Scorpius demanded instantly. He turned his glare in the direction of James, who was terrible at being inconspicuous. 

"Was he?" I returned. "I didn't notice."

"Did he do something to you, Em?"

"What? No! Of course not," I said immediately, bewilderment surely making my eyes gape back at him. "Why would you say that? James has always been nice to me."

Scorpius did not look to be convinced. "I'd believe that if he wasn't around every time something is wrong with you."

I adjusted the strap of my schoolbag, clearing my throat so I could say, "You needn't worry about James. You know he's just taken it upon himself to be my own personal guard ever since the Unforgivable Curse. It's like that one time last year, remember? I broke my wrist during a Care of Magical Creatures lesson and he attended it with me for the next two weeks?"  

Scorpius was not dropping his frown anytime soon, I could tell. "All right," he grunted out, "that sorts Potter out, but what about you, then? What is going on, Em? Don't tell me nothing because I know you."

Something sunk in my chest when the incoherent voices in my head were suddenly clear. And loud. 

He doesn't know you. He only knows what you want him to believe.

I cringed at the hiss inside my head.

Scorpius and I have been inseparable since First Year. He had taken a liking to me and I to him; we sort of completed each other in an odd way. Maybe it was loneliness finding loneliness. I was his softness, his sacred, neutral space to be himself when being tough and unwavering got to be too much (some students were horrible to him because of his Malfoy name). To me, he was the closest thing I got to warmth and affection. He was the closest thing I got to family.

He often said I was his free-pass to truth, but I knew he would never be that for me. That was my truth. I would give him everything he wanted, just not the girl on the dark, broken road. 

"We're best mates, aren't we not?" His silver eyes pierced my green with a sadness that he must have sensed from me before it infected him. "At least...that's what I've thought for the past five years."

The wind passing through the leaves sent a shiver down my spine. "Of course we are, Scor."

The sadness was masked with indifference on his face. I knew that to be a sign when he wanted to hide his feelings, when he did not want to admit the thoughts he was scared of. He often got that look when Rose was around. It was odd to see it directed at me.

"Best mates trust each other, Emily. Unconditionally," he said in a tone that matched his expression. "Like how I trust you. I care about you—I've come to learn a lot of your little quirks, and I know there's something you're not telling me. I've tried to ignore it all these years because you do, but I'm done ignoring it. I'm done pretending like there isn't something wrong with you because you're too afraid to tell me about it."

I felt like all the air had left my lungs. If that's so, how did I still manage to lie?

 "I'm fine, Scor. Honestly."

You're going to lose him. You're going to lose all of them. They are starting to see the monster.

I looked away from him, down to my shoes. My brain told my feet to turn on their heels, to walk away from him, but I forced them still. One more lie.

"I'd tell you if anything was wrong, Scor. You know that. But nothing is, I swear. I'm okay."

"Who are you trying to convince that's the truth?" he said sharply, a little too loudly. "You or me?"

I looked up at him. Stupid courage.

"I tell you everything," he continued, "because that's what friends do. If you do not want to share it, then fine. Blimey, I can live with that, but don't make me feel like I'm crazy—"

"Then don't be my friend!" The voices in my head took control of my mouth.

The anger that had slowly started to take place on his face was gone. Scorpius could not even manage that smooth, blank mask that saved him from several scenarios. 

Take it. This is your escape. Let him go before you break him like you did the others.

The hardest thing to accept was knowing that I was actually doing this. It should have been done long before, but I allowed him in. I allowed him to care for me. I allowed myself to love him. I couldn't hurt him. Not with what I carried. He was too important.

The silver in his eyes lightened by a glisten I was too terrified to face.

Here comes heartbreak.

"It's done, Malfoy," I said, clutching on to the strap of my schoolbag before finally turning on my heels. 

Every step I took away from him hurt. All I wanted to do was latch on, to tell him that I loved him and he was the realest thing I could never have.

Monsters don't get happy endings.

X

I was unaware the bell had rung when my classmates rose up from their seats, eagerly stuffing their notes and books into their bags. They were rowdy, as usual, that Professor Sinistra was barely heard saying, "Remember, children, a diagram of your planet of choice and the accompanying essay on the specific elements it has assisted revolutionary breakthroughs in the Wizardying World is due next week! I will be having office hours tomorrow for those of you who need help refining your research!"

Two girls made a beeline for her, dread on their faces when they exclaimed having no knowledge about an essay.

I shook my head, bringing myself back to the present in order to put away the charts, gold telescope, and quill and inkpot I had no recognition of taking out of my bag in the first place. 

A foot down from where I sat was Lysander Scamander, a fellow Gryffindor Fifth Year. He was having a rather difficult time storing away his things; he punched a chart further inside his schoolbag, jumping twice on his feet as if the momentum would help. If he seemed to preoccupied with his belongings, I have no idea how he still managed to say, "Are you okay, Taylor?"

I raised my eyebrow at the wand he threw at me. "Uh, yeah," I mumbled, unsure to why the question was needed. "Just a little sleepy, that's all." 

Lysander flashed his blue eyes at me, raising a brow of his own. There was something about the way he smiled at me that made me feel ashamed of the lie that tumbled past my lips. "Yeah," he said, "having too many thoughts cause restless nights. Mum always says the best thing to clear your head is Wrakspurts. Or to share those thoughts with someone else."

"I don't know what a Wrackspurt is," I said, "but if you know where I can find one, let me know. There's no one who wants to hear my thoughts now."

You made sure of it. The only sensible thing you've ever done.

Lysander threw his arms up in triumph when he managed to secure his schoolbag shut. "You're never alone." He extended a hand out to me. I placed his wand on his left hand while my right went to take a hold of his. "It might feel like it, but all you have to do is allow yourself the chance to let people in."

He helped me off my seat and I smiled softly at him. 

I never really had a conversation with either of the Scamander twins (other than fleeting pleasantries or brief mutterings about schoolwork), and I was saddened for that. Lysander was actually sweet and (apparently) quite perceptive. 

"The worst thing you can do, Taylor," he said as we descended the staircase out of the Astronomy Tower, "is seclude yourself. If you do, the voices in your head are going to drive you insane."

Aren't you already?

I remembered the betrayal on Scorpius' face when I walked away from him, the sad, miserable glint in James' brown eyes when I ignored him, the concerned glances between Al, Liam, and Lucas, the rejected shows of support from Nia and Rose...

You only lead to despair. 

The glow of the moonlight brought an ethereal glimmer to Lysander as he took a step further from me (it was rumored his mother had placed an enchantment on him and Lorcan that repelled negative vibes from their space).  "I think I'll head over to the kitchens for a late snack. I'll grab you some pudding," he said with a smile before stalking off. 

"Don't leave me alone with my thoughts," I muttered to his retreating figure. 

Sighing, I threw my belongings near the closest tree.

 I did not want to go back inside the castle—I couldn't. Surely by now my friends would know what I had done to Scorpius. I could not face their questions and confusion. I could not relive what I had done to my best friend. So I sat down beneath the tree like a coward. I ignored the itching of the grass on my thighs as I looked to the dark sky above me. It was littered with stars, with these points of gas that were lightyears away from us. They were beautiful and silent. They were eternal.

Professor Sinistra told us a myth about the stars: ancient people believed the stars were living, breathing beings that watched over the Earth. Stars were all the great warriors and minds who ever lived (that's why constellations were named after real people). They left their solid bodies for the sky, but never truly abandoned those on the ground. 

My thoughts strayed for me too quickly to contain them. I saw a faint memory of a tall, dark-haired woman with sharp, alluring eyes that never left my face. She was unreadable and unreachable.

Before I could drown in the memory, my foot was nudged by another's shoe. "Oi, you all right?"

I turned away from the stars to meet the dark gaze of someone unknown. My wand slipped out of the pocket of my schoolbag before I could blink.

"Whoa. Easy there," the boy said immediately, but there was a grin on his face as he raised his hands in surrender. "I was just heading back to the castle and saw you here. I thought you might have clunked out and needed a wake up call. You don't want to get caught by Filch, do you?"

I lowered my wand a fraction of an inch when I noticed the gold of his eyes. It was a genuine shade, void of any specs of brown or green. His gaze was alluring and overwhelming. I felt my cheeks burn when I continued to hold his gaze. Beneath the moonlight, he was pale with rugged, dark tresses that fell to his eyes rimmed with dark lashes; he was tall and his white button-up (with a loose Slytherin tie) exposed a stretch of muscles beneath the material. 

"Sorry," I mumbled, "I just wasn't expecting anyone out here. Dinner is starting soon."

His grin grew larger. "Yeah, well, I already had my dinner. Mind if I sit with you? Or are you planning to eat?"

"Don't really have an appetite," I said to him. 

He laughed like I had delivered a punchline to a great joke. Still, he took a seat beside me underneath the tree, extending his large hand to me. "I'm Lance, by the way," he said, the grin now a smile, "Lance Greyback."

My eyes traveled up his wrist, to the well-defined forearm and bicep that could make any girl my age swoon.

"Emily," I said immediately, frowning at myself for the uncalled for reaction. I shook his hand. 

"Emily Taylor," he said, "Yeah, I know. Scorpius Malfoy talks a lot about you, you know? I hear him when he talks to Potter and Zabini."

"Not good things, I expect," I mumbled, pulling grass from its roots.

"Not good," he returned, his sharp, golden eyes now inspecting me, "great things. Malfoy seems to think you shine like the stars. I can see the appeal."

I laughed, looking away briefly from him. "Nice pickup line. Does it work often?"

"It works every time," Lance laughed, "but I don't think I've been quite this charmed before. You've caught my attention, Emily Taylor."

"Should I be flattered, Lance Greyback?" I repeated something I heard Nia say to the boys who fawn all over her, who seem to think their attention should be reciprocated immediately. 

He laughed louder at my reply, his gold eyes gleaming with mirth. "I'm the one who's flattered. You know my name now."

"Is it worth knowing?" I asked, unsure where the smoothness was coming from. I did not have trouble stringing words together, but I did not allow people in. I especially didn't give them an invitation to.

Yet, there was something about Lance Greyback that had my heart increasing in rate. It was nothing caused by butterflies and teenage hormones; it was adrenaline. It was fight-or-flight instincts kicking off full-force. 

"If you want it to be," Lance said with a wicked grin.

I should run.

Oh, you're a magnet to chaos.