Chapter 13
Ajax brought me with him each morning to the office. Maybe I had to be there, but I made the choice not to help. I hated how apparent it became they didn’t need me to.
This one got Weasley his commendation. There was a recognition ceremony and everything. Maybe they would have let me skip, back when I didn’t need constant watching, but now they forced me along so no one else would miss out. Begrudgingly, I appreciated being let in for the hors d'oeuvres. They were a far deal less classy than anything from my childhood. Then again, so was I.
Weasley wanted to celebrate. The whole team did. Plus the various family members and significant others who’d shown up for support. Granger was here, beaming at her husband like she knew all along he wasn’t worthless. It was no skin off my back to admit she was smarter than me in this and everything else I’d gotten wrong.
There was a problem with going out. Weasley pulled me aside himself to tell me. The senior aurors wouldn’t approve the trip for me this time. I just stared at him, gracelessly blank, until I realized he had expected I’d want to go with them. Fuck no. Everyone should go. The whole team. Go have fun. I wouldn’t ruin Weasley’s special night by killing myself and then he’d have to feel bad forever.
Yeah, I was probably lying. Which is why he’d found me a different babysitter. I went pale as a sheet, then red as a tomato, when I realized Potter knew.
Of course Potter knew. Why wouldn’t Weasley have told him. They were the only two people who’d ever had to manage me, they must talk about it from time to time. Weasley was thorough enough he’d want to compare notes. It didn’t matter to Weasley that for a brief moment Potter had been the only one who didn’t think I was a basket case.
I wasn’t hungry and Potter didn’t like when I worked late, so I took him back to my room. When I imagined it through his eyes it looked spartan and tiny. He could see a million pictures of Ajax’s art and loved ones stuck to one half of the wall, and on my side nothing. For the first time I was grateful I left my file behind. The most humiliating thing would have been Potter seeing how stark it looked, surrounded by absolutely nothing.
He sat in the desk chair. I sat on my bed. I couldn’t pretend to fall asleep with him here. He was too polite to pretend to ignore me like my other watchers. There was something about Potter that let him relax into a space that wasn’t his. A knack I knew I’d never develop. Maybe because he could have anything, and anything I wanted would be taken away.
Do you want to talk about it?
I mulled over why I hadn’t expected him to ask. No one else had asked. Sure, I’d overheard Weasley behind closed doors talking to Granger about whether there was any chance the Minster could get another mind healer on the auror’s staff. Apparently it was an old ask, never funded. Weasley wanted it funded now. He didn’t have to come out and say why. He knew it. Granger knew it. Even I knew it. Mind Healer Green was muggle born and her oldest sister was captured by snatchers in the war. They never found the sister, not even her corpse. Healer Green was one of the people who used to hex me in the corridors.
I sneered, and I understand why Potter thought I was sneering at him. He wasn’t the brightest, and even if he were it would be quite a leap to understand the sneer was very much self directed. I suppose I could sneer at Potter, too, if he really wanted to be upset about it. Bite out something scathing about how talking to him would only make matters worse.
Not once in my life had lashing out at Potter made him go away, but I supposed that was one reason I kept doing it. Instead of being put off, he leaned forward, elbows on knees, earnestly asking if his actions had played any role in my decision.
Oh, Potter. Savior Potter. Once again thinking he could solve this. Couldn’t he just be glad he killed the Dark Lord before even more harm could be done, at the expense of my freedom, power and fortune? I was glad for it. Wouldn’t wish a single thing different. I didn’t even mind it took him so long to win the war, seeing how he’d only been 17. I didn’t mind that destroying that vile, murderous wizard had the small side effect of ruining my entire life. Of course his actions played a role in my decision.
I don’t know what it was I did that encouraged Potter to move from the chair to sit next to me on the bed. The sneer was gone, Merlin knows what replaced it. Something that led Potter to put a hand on my shoulder. I must have looked alarmingly vulnerable for Potter to start yammering on about nonsense things. My life mattering, people caring for me, how big of a difference I make here at the DMLE. Regrettably, I got why people hero worshiped him. When his green eyes focused in on you it felt like he could see right into your soul. I must be looking back at him, doe-eyed and needy. It had been years since someone touched me. Well, Weasley had tossed me around a bit recently, but that didn’t count. That was nothing like Potter shifting his hand up to the back of my neck so he could pull me close until our foreheads bumped. He was surprisingly tactile outside the office, when he didn’t view his actions as work. His claim that he’d be here for me when I was ready to seek help sounded awfully sincere.
There was something to being able to feel the heat from another’s body. Something about their warm breath brushing against your face. Unexpected yearning welled up in me, so strong and overpowering that I made the worst choice of my life.
I kissed him. I kissed Harry Potter. He was just trying to comfort me but from hairbrained hope alone I closed the distance between us and brushed my lips over his, my chest pounding so hard I swear I could hear it, even as the entire world narrowed down to that tiny space where my body and his were one.
At least he didn’t hurt me when he threw himself backwards and jumped from the bed. He might as well have run across the room to get away.
Get out, I said, at the exact moment he said I’m sorry.
Get out, I might have shouted, wide-eyed and quite possibly helpless. I couldn’t make my face stop doing whatever it was doing. Showing Potter my emotions. I might have yelled some more because if I didn’t he would have tried talking instead of leaving and I couldn’t live with that. I couldn’t keep any of my feelings off my face.
They’d taken all the things I needed away from me but Ajax had to have something somewhere. There weren’t tacks for the pictures, he’d used a sticking charm in its place. I dumped out his toiletry bag but there was no shaving razor, and none of the bottles held enough chemicals to kill me quick. I couldn’t find as much as a hand mirror to break into shards. The pencils were all dull and none of his notebooks had as much as metal spirals on the edges. There were none of those helpful plastic bags I could have tied around my face to suffocate on. I could have torn apart bedding for a noose, but there was nothing to hang myself from. I needed something I could tie tight and would stick. Something that would be too hard to undo in case I changed my mind at the end. Ajax had a belt somewhere. I knew I’d seen him wear a belt. I found it in the wardrobe. It was solid leather, quality. The clasp looked strong. If I got it on me tight enough I wouldn’t be able to claw it off.
What I needed was something sharp. Ha. Maybe something dull could still poke a hole in the leather so the prong could stick through and secure it. I gathered the pencils, and my one solitary quill. I measured out the spot I would need and set to work. I tried gentle, I tried hard. I tried grinding into the tanned hide with anything I could find. I saw the tools push into it, I could see the shape of the pencil tip poke out the far side, but when I looked where the pencil had pressed the leather was as smooth as when I started.
They had spelled it. I couldn’t have said what or how, only that it was unnatural and unquestionably targeted at me.
I checked the whole room and couldn’t find anything. I mean, I could have force fed myself unnatural objects but they’d find me before what I ate did me in. I could have rammed my head against the furniture or the wall but I’d always hated bruises more than cuts. And what if it didn’t work? What if the whole place was spelled to do no harm?
I sat on the floor in a corner, my head hanging between my knees, when Potter came back. I didn’t watch him come in, didn’t check his reaction to the room. I focused on taking deep breaths, keeping my face empty and my heart numb. I wanted to cover my ears when he apologized again, like it was his fault I’d kissed him. It made me so angry I lashed out with a blithe comment telling him to shut up, Ajax hadn’t wanted to shag me either. I had never propositioned Ajax, but I knew if it wasn’t personal Potter would let it the fuck go. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, but he definitely stopped talking.
The silence lasted until I could bear to look up and face him. He looked so wary. Like I was a thing that couldn’t be trusted. I could feel my face twitch but I fought the emotion down. I was a thing that couldn’t be trusted. I was despicable. I was scum. I looked away from Potter before my expression broke and holy shit what had I done.
The room was a disaster. I’d tossed Ajax’s stuff around. I’d broken things. I couldn’t hide this. They would know. They left me alone for one night, one moment, and I’d ruined things. I think I was shaking, but this time Potter didn’t come close to comfort me. No, that was over with. Even if he couldn’t help himself from trying to solve something.
Do you remember where everything goes? I can fix it.
I did remember. I remembered which photos went where on the wall. I remembered that Ajax wasn’t consistent about how he made his bed, and shoved clothes in drawers instead of folding them neatly. Ajax was stupid, but I wasn’t certain he was stupid enough to miss that we didn’t put it all back exactly right. I was terrified he’d say something and then everyone would know.
Don’t tell Weasley, I begged. I wasn’t certain if I meant the kiss or the mess we’d put back together. Either way, Potter nodded.