DEAD TO ME → (h. potter)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

She had been expecting the punch that came; it wasn't like she could control the stammer of her voice, and she knew he would not be pleased with hearing her speak as such, especially after he had instructed against it. And even when she fell back onto the floor, clutching at her mouth and lower lip where she was sure she had felt it split and begin to bleed, she did not dare cry. She couldn't give him the satisfaction.

"How lucky I am to have a second child," He towered over her, black beady eyes blinking shamelessly down at her. Indiana ran a tongue over her lower lip, cringing at the irony taste of her own blood. "I do hope Simon will fulfill his duties as heir more admirable than you have."

Indiana remained crumpled on the floor, staring up defiantly at her father's seething figure. He sneered at her as though she were no more than dirt on the sole of his leather shoe, and with a dry scoff, he turned to the door.

"I shall be attending your final match," He spoke, his back facing her with his hand on the door knob. "I do hope you will fly faster next time."

Indiana stayed on the floor after the door was slammed shut, the blood still slowly seeping through the split of her swollen lip and her cheek still overly sensitive from the harshness of his calloused palm. She didn't know how long she had stayed there, nor when she had begun sobbing like a child. It seemed to all have happened at once and she hadn't even known when she had allowed herself to let go.

"Oh, baby, come here," Nancy's sweet, motherly voice had coaxed her out of her cries, her soft hands gently coming to rest along the curve of her back and the hardness of her arms. She cradled her like a baby, and Indiana guiltily allowed herself to hide her face in the girls soft chest. "Sh, you're okay... you're okay..."

She hadn't been held like this in a very, very long time. The closest had been, dare she say, when Potter had touched her face so gently, or perhaps when his hand had benevolently fiddled with her own. His lips ghosting silkily against hers, his calloused fingers brushing the surface of her flushed skin like she was some sort of rare specimen.

"Oh, Ana..." Nancy cooed as the shaking of Indiana's figure had calmed a bit. "You're okay... everything's all good..."

"M'sorry, Indie," It was her brothers voice. How Simon had managed to get into her dorm was beyond her, but she was oh-so-grateful for his presence. His kind face, his loving smile. Her family... she still had good family, she had to remind herself. Simon was good. "I shoulda stayed with you, shoulda told him he couldn't come in —"

"Shut up and c'mere," Indiana hiccuped, extending an arm for him to embrace her. Nancy's hands slipped away, but Simon had hugged her tightly and brought warmth to her cold skin again. She glanced up from over Simon's shoulder and furrowed her brows a bit when she noticed Hermione Granger standing beside Nancy, looking empathetic.

"Oh, Indiana..." Hermione's lower lip was trembling, and she shook her head twice as though she could simply not believe the sight before her. Indiana gave her a weak smile as the Gryffindor knelt down before her. Simon slipped away and allowed the girls to embrace. "I'm so sorry... I had no idea that this was — that you have to —"

"S'okay, you had no way of knowing," Indiana told her, her voice muffled by the girls shoulder. Hermione truly gave amazing hugs. She must have studied up on them before coming. "S'all good."

"I wish we had been friends before the war," Hermione confessed. "Perhaps I could have helped you sooner."

"I was too big of an asshole back then," Indiana jested, to which all four of them laughed. "You'd've killed me on the spot, Granger."

"Suppose I would have," Hermione smiled, rubbing her shoulder affectionately. Indiana swallowed, licking the blood off her lip again. "Oh, you're bleeding!"