firecracker ???

Elestara had trouble sleeping. She hadn't slept well for the past few days.

She lay in her bed with the curtains drawn, the room bathed in darkness save for the faint silver light that seeped through the gap in the velvet. Her pillow was cold, but her thoughts were worse — tangled, thorned, relentless. Her fingers twitched against the sheets, replaying the moment her eyes had broken the surface of the lake and met Harry's.

She had known. Somehow, even before she'd seen him.

She had known it would be him.

That made it worse.

Then she'd said things she shouldn't have. Things meant to wound. Meant to distance.

But it had been him. He had saved her.

The guilt settled in like frost.

She hadn't spoken to him since. Hadn't seen him, not properly. Not in the corridors, not in the Great Hall, not even in passing. And for someone like Harry Potter — loud, bold, unmissable — his absence struck sharper than she'd expected.

She didn't even know why she said those words to him.

Except—she did.

She had awoken in the lake with her heart thundering and the memory of icy darkness clinging to her skin. She'd seen him, his arm around her waist, pulling her to the surface like a knight out of some ridiculous tale. She hated it. Hated the softness of it. The helplessness. That she'd been chosen. That out of all the people in the castle—out of all the people Harry Potter could've held beneath the water like something sacred—it had been her.

It felt like a joke.

It felt like the truth.

And so she'd lashed out. Better to burn everything down than to sit in the smoke and feel what it meant.

She turned over in bed again, face buried in the crook of her elbow. She could still see the look on his face when she'd said it. That flash of hurt. The way he hadn't even fought back.

Just stood there, quiet. Like she'd taken the wind out of him.

He hadn't spoken to her since.

She tried to tell herself it made her happy. She didn't want to see him.

But she wasn't.

Every time she caught a glimpse of him in the halls—head ducked slightly, a laugh half-swallowed when someone called his name—her chest tightened. He wasn't walking near her anymore. Wasn't teasing her. Wasn't even trying.

And that was worse.

That absence, sharp and clean, like something had been cut away.

He had respected her. Given her space. Stayed far away. She could see it in his eyes. In the way he hadn't glared, hadn't scowled, hadn't said a single biting thing or told any of his friends. He just... let it happen. As if he knew she needed to be cruel to feel safe.

But she didn't want to feel safe anymore.

She wanted to feel seen. She would never admit it, but she wanted to feel happy again. The type of happy he made her.

It wasn't until two nights later that she found him again. By accident. Or fate. Or that same strange gravitational pull that always led her into his orbit.

She climbed the Astronomy Tower because it was empty, because the stars didn't care what kind of mess she was. Maybe loving the stars was a Black family trait, she thought. She continued up the steps. It was also because she needed air and quiet and no one asking her what was wrong.