Letters I Can't Send

Y/n's POV

My memory is foggy from a couple hours ago, but I remember Crabbe and Goyle standing in front of me, I remember the foul taste of whatever they made me drink. I remember holding onto Draco for balance and admiring his many faces. After that, it's just haze and images and words I can't seem to fit together.

He reaches a hand up to my forehead and I watch it warily. "What are you doing?" I ask harshly and swat it away.

He sighs. "You had a fever," I notice a wet rag on the floor, and hot panic rolls through me.

My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. "I-I was sick?" he nods, and my eyes fill with fear. "But I'm better now, right?" I try to keep my voice level.

"Yes—I don't know how that happened when you were drunk—" he starts and my shock and panic only grows.

"I was drunk!?" I yell, standing, and stands with me.

"Crabbe and Goyle—they gave you the emerald potion, it makes anyone instantly drunk," he stands in front of me, no shirt, anxiety flaring in his eyes, his eyebrows.

I let out an exhaled gasp. He tries to hold my shoulders again but I push his arms away. I say, fueled with white-hot anger, "No."

I press my hands over my face. "No. I'm so fucking tired!" I scream, Draco shuts his mouth. "I'm so tired of being used like this! I'm so tired of you saving me like this! I won't cry in front of you again, I won't! I am not a damsel in distress! I don't want to be saved! I am so fucking tired," my voice turns to a whisper, vulnerability coated my last words.

When I feel tears prickle the backs of my eyes, I push them away. "I'm tired of you caring about me."

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" he raises his voice. "Leave you there, drunk? You got a fever, Y/n! I couldn't take you to Madame Pomfrey! Don't you understand? I couldn't do nothing!"

"But you should have! You were supposed to be there with Crabbe and Goyle, pranking me!" I bite my cheek again to keep from crying.

"I couldn't do that to you, Y/n! I couldn't laugh at you—and whatever those bastards had planned to do with you, I sure as hell couldn't be apart of. Not with what you've been through."

I roll my eyes. "So, you pity me! Is that what it is?" I gape at him.

"I—what?" he stammers. I made the infamous Draco Malfoy stammer.

"Just...stay away from me. Okay? Let me handle myself. Maybe if I stay away from you, people will stop bothering me, for once," my voice is level now, but low, dangerous.

"Y/n—"

I open the door. "And don't use my first name like that."

I slam the door shut behind me.

.........

I enter my dorm, fuming. Most of the common room saw me descend the steps from the boys' dormitories, to add to my anger, but in the moment, I can care less.

Quinn pops up from her bed, "Y/n! You've been gone for a while," an implying tone to her voice. Then she sees the obvious rage on my features and I see the anxiety creep into her eyes. Just like Draco. Pity. I can't take people's pity anymore. I can't take people anymore. I'm done.

"He didn't stand me up, Quinn. It wasn't a date, Quinn. It wasn't a ploy, either, Quinn," I hiss at her. I feel the eyes of our other dorm members staring at us.

Quinn clamps her mouth shut, vulnerability now striking at her eyes. She opens her mouth merely to say, "Are you okay?" a soft question, an innocent question, one I shouldn't have snapped at her for.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that! I'm fine—and don't need your pity, Quinn. I'm fine." I yell at her. I've never gotten in a fight with her before, but we could hardly call this a fight, she just watches me gather my things for a shower and go to the bathroom.

When I'm under the warm water, is when I finally let myself cry.

.........

The next few days are bleak. Quinn is mad at me, I told Draco to stay away from me, and he heeds my warning, barely casting me glance. I tell myself this is how I want it to be. That I want to be alone like this. None of the girls in our dorm will speak to me either, all of them saw me yelling at her, saw how I treated her.

But I don't need anyone. Who ever said I needed someone?

Halloween is growing closer, the choosing of the three champions for the Triwizard Tournament. Everyone is giddy with excitement, as it's only a week away. I wish I could say I'm excited, but I'm not.

People making bets on who will get chosen, losing money, gaining money, laughing and yelling. It's all things I can't stand.

"Miss Ellis?" a high-pitched voice startles me from my daze, and I look to my left to see Professor Flitwick standing next to me, as I eat lunch in the Great Hall. I drop my spoon of soup in my bowl, and straighten to look at him properly, faking a smile.

"Professor Flitwick," I greet kindly.

"I wanted to know how your tutoring sessions are going with Mr. Malfoy—not to say you aren't doing a good job, because I'm sure you are—" he says, trying to catch himself before he finishes what he has to say, "—but his grades are still quite low. Any idea why?"

My stomach half drops. I inhale and swallow, picking up the smile that fell from my face, plastering it back on. "I'm afraid tutoring with Malfoy has been delayed due to my recently busy schedule."

Flitwick nods, knowingly, though I don't know how he could know of the lie that slips carefully through my lips. "I see. But please, as soon as possible, try to find time to assist him, or I will have to try to find a new tutor."

At that, I stutter. I don't want a new tutor for Draco. I'm his tutor and have been since last year. I suddenly get defensive. "No, no. That won't be necessary, I'm sure. I'll find the time, Professor," I reassure and he smiles brightly.

"Good, good. I'll see to it that you get on that right away." I nod and he walks out of the Great Hall.

I direct a scowl into my bowl of soup.

.........

When I woke up in Draco's bed (sounds so wrong, I know) and he told me I had a fever, that I was sick, I panicked inside, but I made sure it didn't show.

When I was six in Jouge's Hospital (the wizarding hospital in the states), I was there for quite some time with pneumonia. I spent months in the rooms of white—white sheets, white blankets, white walls, white clocks. It drove me crazy—it was the same thing every day. Treatments, medications, doctors with masks and clipboards, jotting things down, studying me like some experiment—even if it was only pneumonia.

I wouldn't like to go back.

But right now, I don't know where I am. I thought this was what I wanted, I thought being alone was my destination in life. But now that I have it, I just feel empty.

I cut out people in my life who matter, I cut out the only people who I know care about me, who I care about.

So I've been beating myself up about it, silently crying myself to sleep at night—as pathetic as it seems—I haven't been sleeping anyway. Skipping breakfast, thinking I don't deserve to eat. I hurt people and for what?

I think I'm selfish. I think I'm struggling, but I then I think I can't be struggling when I got what I wanted—even if I never said it outright—I can't be struggling, or trying as hard as I can, because I know I'm not. Do I even have it in me to try? Yes, I know I do. But I don't.

I just want someone to notice.

But no one does.

a/n: too relatable and I'm sorry if this was triggering to anyone...

we needed some feminine rage, but don't worry! Everything will be okay, we're just going through some internal crap right now =]