5

Thursday.

A new day that is lost in the darkness of my thoughts before it even really began.

The soft light of dawn creeping through the heavy curtains of my room, but I don't move. I just grip the blanket tighter as if it could protect me, although unfortunately I know very well that this blanket only protects children from monsters under their bed.

I lay there, my eyes on the invisible nothingness, when the first sounds of the day penetrate my ears.

Pansy comes out of our bathroom, she herself looks quite sleepy, but still as perfectly styled as every day.

It doesn't take long before I hear her voice.

»Good morning, honey, are you up? Breakfast is about to start,« she smiles as she looks down at me.

I close my eyes briefly and pull the blanket a little higher. »I'm not feeling very well Pans'« I mutter, the words automatically coming over my lips.

Pansy comes closer to my bed. I feel her kneel next to me and put a hand on my forehead. »Hm...you don't have a fever, could it be that you just slept badly?« She says, a hint of concern in her voice.

I nod without opening my eyes. »Probably.«

She hesitates for a moment before getting up. »Alright... Rest, okay? I'll tell the others that you're not coming today.«

With a soft sigh she leaves the room and the door into the lock very quietly. I stay back alone in silence.

The minutes flow toughly and with them came the thoughts. They flood my head like an endless wave that kept pulling me back, back to yesterday.

To Mattheo.

When he had easily overwhelmed me – not only physically, but also mentally.

On a new one he defeated me and I hate every moment of it.

His words had dug into my soul, like poison that slowly spreads.

»Where is the fun of torturing you, if you already do it yourself«

These words echo in my head, as if he had burned them directly into my skin.

He know  it. He has seen it.

Every lie,

Every facade.

Which I tried so hard to maintain, was obvious to him.

And the worst thing was not that he knows it, it was that he enjoyed it, he had not only exploited the power over me at that moment, he had celebrated it.

A shiver runs down my spine, but I force myself to stay calm. The thought of facing him again makes my stomach cramp.

How can I ever look into his eyes without him wearing this triumph in his them?

Don't get me wrong, I was never afraid of Riddle, but now that he can read me like an open book, things had become a lot more complicated.

It was easier to stay here. In bed. Wrapped up, far from the eyes of others. Fortunately, Pansy had called me in sick, the thought of the lesson seems so unreachable to me, as if it is in another world.

The idea of sitting in the Great Hall, surrounded by people talking, laughing, eating - it is too much straight. Too loud. Too lively.

And me? I feel like anything but alive.

The hours passed, but the heaviness in my chest remains. I hadn't eaten anything, my body is weak, but I don't care. Nothing new.

My stomach is growling, but I ignore it, just like I ignore everything else.

There is no place for hunger, not in the midst of anger and confusion.

The worst thing is that since the meeting with Riddle, I only endure even less than I did so beautifully without, well. puking.

Why can't I just banish him from my thoughts?

Why am I allowing him to eat so deeply into my interior, and that without the legiliment?

I turn to the side, pull my knees to my chest.

Mattheo Riddle his name burned into my consciousness, his dark presence is on me, so that I would like to peel off my skin.

I take a deep breath, but even the air feels like it had become heavier. Every movement is an effort, every thought an obstacle.

Maybe, if I would stay here long enough, I could let this day go unnoticed.

But that thought quickly disappears when I hear it knocking on the door. I look at the clock hanging on the wall.

2:30 p.m. Lunch break.

I sigh. Time flew by, though it feels like a tough mass to me.

With another sigh I get up, the blanket tightly slung around me and slip to the door. My heart is pounding slightly as I turn the handle, but when I open the door, there was...

Nobody...?

I look around, no human soul, everyone is in the Great Hall to fill their belly. But then I see the folded paper on the floor.

I frown, pick it up, and go back into my room. I close the door, and stop, turn the parchment in my hands before carefully unfolding it.

My breath catches when I see the contents. It is a drawing. An incredibly precise drawing of... me.

Every line, every shadow is so detailed that it seems almost surreal.

My glasses, which always slip slightly on my nose, my big eyes, which betrayed me so often, and my figure, which so often made me insecure, but in this drawing I look different.

I thought I was... beautiful?

Not perfect, no one was, but I see myself in a way that I had never perceived myself.

The picture shows me standing in the Hogwarts garden, a watering can in my hand, caring for the flowers.

I could hardly remember the last time I was there to take care of the flowers. I loved it back then. The simplicity of the moment was impressively captured – a peaceful moment that I had long forgotten.

But whoever draw this picture had not forgotten that moment.

With the drawing in my hand, I go back to the bed, lay down again and look at the picture for a while.

Not because I was arrogant or narcissistic, on the contrary, anything about that gesture makes my heart beat faster, even if I have no idea who the sender might be.

At the bottom is something in a small, curved font.

»For someone who is more beautiful than she will ever perceive. I hope you can see yourself out of my eyes someday, Sarah Potter.«

I read the sentence several times as if it is a mystery that has to be solved.

Who could that be? Who would do that for me...?

I am always considered invisible, everyone only sees Harry. Everyone loves him, but it made me happy. He was just the child prodigy.

But I have so much that I wished would be seen, too.

I didn't have a family anymore, just like him.

I was a Potter too.

Even if I never met mother, I just know that she would never have wanted me to end up in this hole I'm in right now.

Self-pity, self-hatred, grief... and anger.

I put the picture next to my pillow and stare at the ceiling.

My head full of questions and feelings that I could not assign.

𓆗

I was fast asleep, the sheet of paper next to me on the bed, when suddenly a soft clanking awakens me.

The sound comes from the door - a key turns in the lock.

Pansy

My heart stops briefly and I hastily reach for the drawing.

I pinch it a little in my hurry and quickly push her under my pillow before I straighten it up. But I make sure it isn't torn.

My head feels heavy when I look at the clock.

5 p.m. The school day is long over.

How could I sleep so long again?

The door opens, and Pansy enters, followed by Harry. His expression is as always when he was worried - a mixture of care and that typical guilt that he couldn't let go of.

Without hesitation, he comes straight to me, sat down at the bed and looks at me.

»How are you, Sarah? You look pale,« he begins, his forehead folds into worry. »Do you need anything? Shall I get Pomfrey?«

I pull the blanket a little higher as if it could protect me from his worried look. »I'm fine, Harry," I reply, forcing me to smile, even though I know he could see through it with no effort. »I don't need anything. I'm just... tired.«

»But you don't look good,« he insists, letting his gaze wander briefly through the room, as if he is looking for a solution. »Were you out today? Maybe you should go out and get some fresh air. It can't be good to lie in here all day.«

»Harry...« I sigh and put a hand on his arm. »I promise you, if I feel worse, I'll call you. But right now I just want to sleep. Seriously.«

He shakes his head slightly as if to say something else, but then he sighs. »You call me if you need anything.« He looks at me as if he still couldn't quite convince me, but finally he nods slowly.

I nod as well. »I promise. I'll call you if anything happens.«

He stands up, hesitating for a moment before going to the door. »Take care, Sarah,« he says softly, and with one last glance he disappears from the room.

As soon as he was outside, Pansy looks at me, who had remained in the background until now.

She closes the door behind her and looks at me with a frown.

»Hell, you're starting to worry me too, you know?« She walks over to me and sits on the edge of the bed. »You've been hanging out here all day, you haven't eaten anything, you haven't drunk anything. If you tell me right away that you're fine, I'll go crazy.«

»It's just...« I look for words, but they all felt hollow. »It's just a lot going on for me right now. Nothing more. I just want to sleep Pans'«

Pansy sighs and shakes her head. »You know, if you keep closing yourself off like this, you'll go crazy at some point. And I'm not telling you that as just anyone, but as your best friend.«

She gives me a scrutinizing look, and then she sighs. »By the way, I have to apologize... I can't spend the evening with you.«

»What?« I ask, I love Pansy, but on the one hand it was really convenient for me. I need pure rest. Pure silence. »Why not?«

»Snape thundered me to detention,« she explains with a contemptuous tone in her voice as she fiddles with her hair and rolls her eyes. »I am allowed to scrub the magic potion. For three hours. Alone.« She grimace's. A sarcastic joyful undertone.

»What's that for?« I ask as I straighten up and lean against the headboard.

Pansy grins. »Well, I might have called him an old bastard when he gave me zero points for my potion. I thought I was quiet enough. Well, apparently he hears better than you trust him.«

I can't help but laugh at her cheekiness. »You'll never learn, huh?«

»Why should I? Life is way too short to shut up, babe,« she says grinning, winking at me as she stands up and turns to walk.

»But really now, Sarah. If anything, send me an owl or something. And stop hanging around here like a cloudy fog. Talk to me if something's going on, okay?«

I smile weakly at her. »Yes, yes. Have fun cleaning.«

She laughs as she looks in the mirror and fixes her hair a little. »Oh, that's going to be real fun.« With a wink, she finally disappears from the room.

When the door behind her falls into the lock, I lean back again and stare at the ceiling. Under my pillow I feel the slight snak of the hidden drawing.

Whoever did it knows more about me than I want.

I sigh and take out the drawing from under my pillow, looking at it again at the twilight of the room. So precise.

Captured every detail of me, how I poured the flowers in the garden of Hogwarts. My face looks so peaceful on paper like I am someone else. A version of me that I hardly recognize.

I run my fingers over the lines, gently, almost as if I can bring back this peaceful person by touching her.

With a tired sigh I put the drawing on my bedside table, next to the lamp.

Who would do that for me..?

I close my eyes briefly, but the question remains unanswered, hanging in the silence of the room, like so many things lately.

My stomach growls softly. The hunger is a familiar feeling, one that I could ignore by now.

I hadn't eaten anything all day and yesterday... well, yesterday I had also brought everything out again, after Mattheo...

I shake my head to shake off the thought, but the memory sticks, like a shadow that wouldn't let me go.

The memory of how I ran to the toilets after he let me go instead of going to my room.

Collapsed in front of the toilet, and the little thing I had in my stomach, found the way out again.

It isn't the first time I feel this way.

The emptiness.

The hunger that comes from more than just food. It comes from deep inside, as if I had lost something inside me that I can never quite grasp.

Maybe it is the chaos in my head, the constant back and forth between what I am supposed to be and what I really was.

Sarah Potter. The sister of the great Harry Potter.

The only Potter in Slytherin.

I want to be seen. I want it.

The contrast that never wants to go all. I am a mystery, even to myself.

And then there was Mattheo. Mattheo Riddle.

His name alone makes my stomach tighten, but it wasn't just fear.

I sigh again, rubbing my eyes.

I should get up.

I should eat something.

But instead I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, unable to move.

It is so much easier to stay in the dark than to look for the light.

I have the feeling that the light would only expose me more.

Harry wouldn't understand.

He couldn't.

He was the hero.

The savior.

I, on the other hand... I was nothing.

Only the girl who kept getting in the way of herself.

The girl who tries so desperately to insert herself somewhere, and fell further and further.

Even in my own group of friends, I am just a marginal figure. Pansy knows nothing about all this. Blaise... he is a good friend, but I can't trust him my darkest secrets. And Mattheo... well, he is the last one I'd ever trust. Even if he seems to know more than I want.

I feel lost. In myself. In this school. In this world that is filled with expectations and duties.

It is like I am constantly running into invisible walls that I couldn't overcome no matter how hard I am trying. No matter how much I want it. And maybe... maybe I am tired of wanting it at all.

With another sigh I roll to the side, looking at the window.

Outside, the evening sky slowly turns dark purple, while the sun disappears behind the hills.

I barely close my eyes when the door pops open.

Without a single knock, of course.

I drive up, and there he stands - Riddle, arrogant as ever, with a hint of mockery in his dark eyes.

He throws the parchments carelessly on my desk, some of them sailing to the ground.

Of all people, he has to bring me the class material,

I just love my life even more. Keep it up universe.

»Knocking doesn't seem like your thing, does it?« I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow, my heart pounding in my chest. »What if I had been naked?«

His mouth warms into a sardonic smile as he slowly approaches, aware of every movement.

»Do we trust that your body parts are not something I have not already seen plenty of times,« he says with a crooked grin.

»But if you want to get naked, Potter, I can wait.« His voice is rough, almost like a whisper that sneaks through the room and sticks in my head.

I roll my eyes and try to ignore the heat in my face, not because it make me nervous, but because the thought that Riddle could see me naked could make me vomit again when.. »You're disgusting.«

»Caught on a bit early, didn't you?« He says sarcastically and leans against the desk, his eyes gliding appreciatively through the room - and stick on the drawing on my bedside table.

Without a second of hesitation, he reaches for it and holds it up while I try to give him a poisonous look.

His eyes narrow, and I feel the mood in the room change.

»Oh?« He holds up the picture so I can barely grasp it. »You... and flowers? What a delightful little scene.« His tone is sarcastic and his eyes sparkle dangerously.

»I didn't know you were so good, Potter. Almost... innocent.«

He let the last words roll over his lips as if they are poison.

I feel my stomach cramp. »You wanted to bring me my stuff, now fuck off.«

My voice is cool, but I feel my heart beat faster. He pretends not to hear me, holds up the picture and looks at it even more closely, his jaw tensing slightly.

»Who drew this? Who sees you like that?« His eyes become dark, almost...no. No

»This one?« He laughed, but it sounds empty. »You and your little innocent life... blooming like the flowers in the garden.«

He shakes his head and gives me a dismissive look, leaning back against my desk, his eyes reading the words below.

»Whoever is the guy who drew you like that, just wants to hook up.«

I can't take it any longer and shot back, »Oh, you know me and everyone else so well, don't you? You're a psychopath without feelings, it doesn't have to mean that everyone is like that.«

My voice is  full of anger, but also a slight uncertainty. He pauses, as if my words had surprised him for a moment.

Mattheo lowers the drawing and steps even closer to me until I can sense the familiar smell of smoke and peppermint that always hangs around him.

His eyes sparkle dangerously.

»Naive, Potter. Very naive.« He shakes his head like I am a stupid little brat who didn't understand anything about the world.

»You're not that blind, are you?«

He lifts the picture and holds it in front of my nose. »Do you think he portrayed you so innocent because you are so beautiful? No, it's just part of his sick idea to fuck you.«

His voice becomes deeper, more threatening, and the smile on his lips disappears.

»You're nothing more than a toy for him. A pretty face that he wants to save for later. At least I'm honest with you, because no one else is. I don't give a damn if you get laid and used. I'm just stating the obvious.«

My hands clench into fists, but I swallow my resistance.  »You don't know anything at all, you're just as ignorant as your father,« I reply icy, but my voice sounds more fragile than intended. »You have no idea who I am.«

»Oh, but I know you. Much better than you think.« His smile is now gone and his tone was menacingly calm.

»You can hide behind your Potter name and your oh so pure facade as often as you like. But deep inside you...«

He leans closer to me until I can feel his breath on my skin.

»You're just as broken, depraved as the rest of us.«

I stand up to pick up the parchments from the floor while he is slobbering at me.

I want to contradict him, to throw anything to his head, but suddenly everything starts to spin around me.

A chill runs down my spine and my head feels heavy. I lean forward to pick up the parchments that had fallen on the floor, but when I straighten up again, my sight goes black.

»Fucking circulation...« I murmur.

My knees give way, and the last thing I see was Mattheo's face - his gaze that changes, his eyebrows raising as he rolled his eyes and curses something... but then everything is just darkness.

𓆗

I wake up with a confused feeling pulsating in my head, trying to drive away the fog of powerlessness.

The room is quiet, only the quiet ticking of the clock seems to advance the time. As I sit up, I notice that I am lying on my bed—so soft, so familiar.

I blink at the light flowing through the window, and my thoughts swirl around the events of the last few days.

I had eaten nothing, retreated into a self-imposed isolation that had laid around me like a heavy coat.

Starving becomes a problem. This realization penetrates the veil of my thoughts and I feel my stomach ache as it sat surgited.

With a sigh, I look around as my eyes fell on the bedside table. A tray stands there, neatly arranged—a sandwich, fresh fruit and a glass of water.

Harry. The thought comes to me immediately, and I can well imagine that he had thought about bringing me the food. He is so pure.

Slowly I straighten up and push the blanket to the side.

My eyes fall on the clock.

What. The. Hell.

10:13 a.m.

I slept through from last night until now. I look over to Pansy's bed. Empty.

It is really the next morning, she probably called me in sick for another day.

I am so hungry, but not much fit in my stomach without having to throw up.

I take the tray with trembling hands, grab the sandwich.

First bite.

Second bite.

Third bite.

Chunken in my throat.

The memories were fragmented. Mattheo. His mocking grin, his sharp words... and then this merciless darkness.

I should have fallen to the ground, but instead I am lying here. A slight unease creeps up inside me. Did he catch me...?

The thought is as unreal as it was uncomfortable, and yet I couldn't ignore it.

It was as if someone has saved me at the moment when I least expected it.

And it disgusts me.

I don't want to owe this boy a favor.

I don't want to be in his debt.

And I never want to have his hands on me again.

Call me an ungrateful bitch. But I do not give a fuck.