Revolution | Averly Malfoy [2] ON HOLD

♔ SEVEN

"I am really am worried about her Harry. This isn't her, not really in anyway."

Harry couldn't bring himself to say a single word, partially because he knew that her statement was true, and partially because every time he began to think about all of the trauma she was dealing with, began to think about Draco, her father, about that damned graveyard, or those pieces of shits who lay their hands upon her, who bruised her skin, who defiled her body, he began to see red. Every muscle in his body would go tight and his skin would feel as though it was burning him alive with pure and utter rage.

Hermione shot him a sideways look as he rolled his neck, a new habit that the bright witch didn't fail to pick up on, "I'm going to go sit with Ron- perhaps you should sit with her"

With a shove towards the Malfoy daughter , Harry took a deep breathe preparing himself for the viper that was Averly to strike at him. With the screeching of the chair along the hardwood floor Harry had expected a snide remark about how she hadn't invited him to sit next to her or at the very least a malicious glare tossed his way, but instead he received nothing, nothing at all. When he retrieved his quill and parchment from his bag, he finally let himself release the breathe he was holding, and instead of relief his gut just bubbled with concern.

Harry shifted his seat slightly closer, acutely aware of the traitorous eyes that peered at them and the whispers that erupted as soon as he took the seat beside her, and by the way her jaw was clenched and the bead of sweat threatening to form on her forehead, he knew she noticed it too.

"Hey, are you okay?" Harry wasn't sure if she had even heard him, trying to speak as quietly as possible to try to give themselves a sense of privacy as Flitwick gathered thee attention of the busybody teenagers and began going over the course materials.

Averly released a shuttering breath, her eyes scanning the room to make sure nobody was watching before her eyes landed on his own. As her icy eyes met his, he saw nothing but unwavering solid steel, the harsh jagged edges of the ice clashing with the light grey, he could find nothing in those eyes, no signs of what she was feeling, of the hurricane of thoughts and emotions that were pounding through her head rattling her skull, the way her heart was hammering into her ribcage so hard she thought it might fly right out of her chest, the blood in her palms from digging her nails into the pale flesh in a sorry attempt to get her hands to stop trembling.

"You can talk to me" He whispered "and if you don't want to talk and this is too much for you I will walk out of this classroom with you right now"

While Averly would never admit it, never to a single soul, but those words meant more to her than anyone would ever know. Maybe if they were in a different place, not having to tune out the nasally voice of Flitwick or dodge the lethal stares of their classmates, maybe in another world where Averly wasn't horrified with the person she had become, where she had other ways to defend herself besides her mean tongue and inpenatrable barriers, maybe she would've opened up to him.

But she had already let him see too much, with running to him in the middle of the night, letting tears fall down her face as he held her in dark common room only lit by the simmering embers in the fire, kissing him. If she let Harry Potter look into the window of her mind, he would run away screaming from the monsters that lye within. So, pushing her shoulders back and swiveling to look at the chalk board that was now filled with writing-

"I'm fine."

-

Averly hadn't retained one single word that the Professor said. Every time she would begin to focus on the chalkboard her mind would drift into the abyss, every sound or smell would bring her back into the hell that was her mind. She would find herself thinking back to how those hands felt as they rained on her body, the taste of blood as it pooled in her lip from the relentless boots that hit her jaw, her skin itching from her scrubbing the skin til it was raw because she couldn't stop feeling dirty, every time she showered the water couldn't get hot enough, the soap wasn't strong enough to get them off of her. She would hear Voldemort's laugh as her head hit the stone stairs, and would look up to see those silver masks in her face- on her body.