Fourth Time's a Charm

xlii. talking

Cassie's POV

I woke up with very little recollection of what happened last night. I knew I got my period, but past that it was a blur. I just had a really strong feeling that I had done something stupid.

It seemed I had made my way to the common room couch with Hermione next to me, so that was a good sign. I wasn't passed out somewhere around the castle.

Footsteps came down the stairs to reveal Harry and Ron still in their pajamas. Something clicked into place and I remembered how I had acted last night after Hermione's charm backfired. After a few moments of tense silence, I stood up, looking at the Christmas tree in the corner of the room. I had almost forgotten it was Christmas.

Hermione put a hand on my shoulder, evidently having woken up.

"Happy Christmas," she smiled.

"Happy Christmas."

We went to join the boys around the tree, everyone else seeming to have either already passed through or were still asleep.

Ron handed each of us a similar-looking box. "They're from my mum," he explained without making eye contact. "She always likes to knit things. I mentioned you a few times in my letters, I guess you were added to the list,"

I smiled gently as I opened the box. It had been a long time since I remember having a Christmas and sitting around opening presents felt a bit weird. Not to mention the way my elbow kept bumping into Harry's.

Inside was a maroon sweater with the letter C embroidered across the front. I held it up to see its full length.

"It's so cute, you'll have to tell her thank you for me," This time Ron did look me in the eye and nodded. Through that one glance, I felt a myriad of hidden messages. A confirmation that he heard me, that he would tell her, that we were okay. Another breath I didn't have to hold in anymore because I was constantly at odds with the people around me.

I lifted my sweatshirt above my head, knowing I had a t-shirt underneath and wanting to put the sweater on. My vision was obscured briefly before I had it off, neatly folding it and putting it next to me.

When I looked back up all eyes were on me. Ron looked like he saw a ghost. Hermione's mouth hung open. Harry's eyebrows were drawn together and his lips were pressed tightly.

"Why are you all staring at me?" I asked apprehensively, not very reassured by their expressions.

"Cassie, lift your shirt again," Harry said shortly. The first words I think he had said to me all day.

"Again? What—?" I stopped talking as I realized what must have happened. When I took my sweatshirt off my undershirt slid up and they saw them. The constant reminders that I was damaged. The lingering pain that would never let me forget. The darkness that always swirled around my head. They saw the truth.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I tried playing it off, pushing back and getting to my feet. Hermione caught my wrist and pulled me back down.

"How'd you get them? You've been out of that house for months." Of course, they would know where they came from. It made things easier, less I had to explain, but it made me see how transparent I was. How with one glance anyone could tell what was going on. I hated it.

"Magic is a terrifying thing," I laughed dryly, reaching towards the tree in front of us. I broke off a branch, holding it in my hands. "It shapes and it molds to help people. To make things better." I demonstrated by bending the stick back and forth. I was lucky pines were so flexible or else this wouldn't have been quite as poetic as I felt. "Then someone does something that doesn't help. It hurts. And the thin line between use and abuse—" I twisted my wrists so it splintered into two equal parts. "—snaps."

They each began looking more concerned and confused. "A curse," I clarified. "My stepfather found a curse that made sure I would still feel him, long after he was gone."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Hermione asked, reaching out to put a hand on my knee. I realized from the way her arm shook slightly at the contact that I was trembling. Sobbing. Losing myself in the past and trying to jolt myself back into the present.

"I finally found people who treated me like I was normal. Like I wasn't broken. I didn't want to lose it," I admitted. Reaching up to roughly wipe the tears off my face. "I guess you all want the full story now?"

I was met with no response but knew I couldn't keep anything from them anymore. So I talked. And talked. And cried. I did both until my throat was sore and I didn't have any tears left. Last night was completely forgotten as we were all engulfed in the story of how one girl could only bear so much until she collapsed beneath the weight.

Happy bloody Christmas.