Delirium

Chapter 45 - Stories

~ Pt. II of the Double Update ~

Far too early on Wednesday morning, Jolie quietly pushed on her slippers and shuffled into the dark common room.

She didn't bother changing out of her pyjamas. It was early enough that not even Draco was likely awake yet. So Jolie had pulled the woven throw at the end of her bed over her blue pyjama set, the thick blanket wrapping tightly over her shoulders.

The hearth lit up as she entered, the soles of her slippers scuffing against the stone as she moved towards the seating.

The fire casted an orange haze of stark shadows and light over the furniture and rug. She settled onto the far side of the faded black loveseat, sitting by the arm nearest the fireplace. Shucking off her slippers, she tucked her feet beneath herself, keeping them warm as she let the fire's heat settle over the room.

She pulled the throw tighter around her, her fists clenching into the woollen fabric, trying to imitate the comfort of an embrace.

But it wasn't even close.

The aching pit in her chest only seemed to grow larger.

It was the reason she hadn't been able to force herself back to sleep. Tea Kettle had even tried to help—standing and stretching from her spot at the side of the bed to move closer to Jolie, curling up beside her hip to keep her warm. Still, Jolie had not been able to ignore the empty, devastating ache within her.

Her nights and mornings were the worst parts of her days now.

It had been four days since she had broken up with George. And, during the day, surrounded by her friends, she was able to distract herself from the crushing emptiness. She could listen to their jokes, even laughing at a few. She could dive into her studies, unable to recall her emotions.

When she wasn't alone, she could let herself forget.

Like at the Hufflepuff party, surrounded by people and music and lights and dancing—she hadn't been able to focus on anything but the present.

And like the following day, when she and Madeline had been hungover out of their minds, Jolie hadn't managed to remember her sadness as Professor Snape had sat down the entire year-five Slytherin class to go over a short lesson in sex education. In fact, after seeing Madeline's skin go from pale to outright green as her father unenthusiastically explained how to cast the Contraceptive Charm, Jolie had silently laughed so hard she'd nearly been sick.

But those moments of distraction did not last.

When silence fell, all diversion was lost. And when darkness inevitably hid her from view, the mask of indifference she forced upon herself in front of others failed to do the same any longer.

This was when the ache made itself most known.

At night, Jolie would stare up at the ceiling of the dorm room, tears slipping from the outer corners of her eyes, wetting her hair or her pillow. She would breathe steadily through only her mouth, not wanting her roommate to catch any sounds of sniffling. And sometimes, when making a noise was bound to happen, she would wad up one of her pillows between herself and the wall, pushing her face into the cushion to smother the sound of her weeping.

In the morning, the tears would always be dried, but the ache would always remain, pressing down onto her chest like a boulder of grief.

So she would wait quietly, impatiently, for the day to begin. For her mask of indifference to find its place once more.