Wolves Without Teeth ── theodore nott ¹ ( UNDER EDITING )

chapter five

                 But Winnie is fifteen now, and as she strolls through the halls filled with a shimmering terror and anguish she can taste on her tongue, it is becoming harder to force it all away. Her fingers flick, and her heart thumps louder. A dozen emotions flicker through her brain at such intensities she is left with the sudden realization that she is losing control over the curse.

            It becomes abundantly clear to her the morning of the Hogs Head meeting, where she spent all evening Friday slaving over a blood quill with Harry Potter. She pushed down every angry, filled emotion she received from him, every dirty prideful remark and thought Umbridge had with a stiffness entering Winnie's body. The feelings of all day rolled and tied together in a knot. While they usually shimmered away in her mind, they stayed.

            Later that night, her eyes stung when she watched the glowing ball. It flickered out of control, prickling the pads of her fingertips. As she pushed it back down into her chest, they fought, demanding to be felt until pools of sweat appeared on her brow, and her fingernails created tiny half-moons on the creases of her pain.

           She was falling into a rabbit trap, spiralling into the darkness she had run from all her life. Winnie Bulstrode prided herself on controlling the broken piece of her heart, but now time slipped out from under her, and control is no longer a thing she holds the power of.

          It made her rigid the following day, honey blonde strands slapped on top of her head in wild flames. Sticking out every which way from the hair tie she wrapped around the mess that morning, she sank even then, falling out of orbit but desperately clawing into any ledge. The blue bandage around her left hand stung painfully. She had accidentally clawed into the scarred words the night before, creating tiny fires of pain to erupt across her hand.

              It was that pain she focused on, not the sudden emotions hitting her like waves as she strolled into the Great Hall. Finger twisted the silver band on her pointer finger as she crossed the long lines of tables. Hazel's eyes landed on her fellow housemate, Hermione, who was hunched over a book with a plain piece of toast in her hand.

           "Hermione," her voice came out quickly, strained and rough around the edges compared to the usual quiet tone of her voice. It caused the more bottomless brown-eyed girl to jump, "Sorry, 11 is still the time to meet, correct?" Winnie grimaced, clearing her throat to try and appear calmer.

           "Yes, that's correct," Hermione replied slowly, eyes narrowed as she looked over the blonde. Winnie stiffened, straightening the leather strap of her bag, feeling the harsh splash of suspension radiate from Hermione. The Halfblood's mouth exploded in the bitter grinds of coffee, making her swallow quickly, defensively. Slowly, she dug her fingernail into her palm, focusing on the sudden quick pain of that rather than the pressure of Hermione's emotion. "Are you alright? You seem... off," Hermione questioned slowly. Winnie blinked, shaking her head.

        "I'm perfectly fine," she realized that was a pitiful lie the moment it left her lips, causing her to stifle a forceful laugh. "I think all these nights with Umbridge are making me prickly. I'm fine, really," she lifted her lips into a crooked smile, waving her hand in the air as Hermione's chin tilted slightly.

       "Right," she answered quickly, offering a small smile. The suspension still whirled in her deep brown eyes, tingling in Winnie's system as the blonde nodded.

        "I'll see you later then," Winnie excused herself, waving a quick goodbye before sneaking away. Feet carrying her out faster than her mind could keep up, the blonde mumbled words of frustration as her feet led her away. It wasn't until she swung her legs over a bench to sit down that she was sitting across Cordelia Flint, who was - thankfully - alone.