Extinguished 🩵 Harry Potter [2]

i ⟶ Scar Tissue

She catches one last glimpse of her Queen vinyl stood up against her record player, and swallows hard, just as she feels a sharp pinch behind her navel and she's yanked upwards.

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The raised skin of the words carved into her forearm is usually covered by a bandage she's worn since she got the scar because she can't bear to look at it or her skin crawls like someone's just danced on her grave for an hour. She traces over it softly, the words DEATH EATER unmistakable and striking, complimenting the other letters carved into her hand. They fell to the back of her mind the past year, while she was too busy with everything else screaming at her in her head, but since she's been alone for a few days, I must not disappoint, and DEATH EATER have been on a loop.

She's noticed she's started saying them aloud to herself, because they're a lot less scary if they're out in the open than when they're tormenting her as thoughts. Her habit of singing quietly to herself while she cooks, cleans or listens to her records has morphed into one of muttering things like, Harry loves me, he does, of course he does, just like Jude and Draco and Eden don't hate me even though they should, they should, they should! Why don't they? I deserve them to. Other times it's I'm not like Lyra, I never was and I never will be, or five blankets is enough, you're not cold, you're just lonely even though it feels like you're ice because you've been shivering for the past three hours and not even hot tea or fire will melt you.

After a few moments, she stumbles and almost loses her balance, but manages to fall into step with Mrs Weasley hurrying towards the Burrow. Thea gives her a grateful smile as they reach the door, and she responds to it with a motherly beam as they enter the house. Mrs Weasley makes her way into the kitchen after shutting and locking the front door, leaving Thea stood in the hallway by herself. She shrugs off her jacket, turning to hang it up on the coat-stand in the corner, and lets out a yelp of surprise as a hand falls lightly on her shoulder.

"Ron!" she shouts, pulling him into a hug; he's so tall now that she needs stand on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck.

She relaxes into her best friend's comforting arms for a moment before he speaks.

"You alright, T? Not managed to talk them in to letting you come with us to get Harry?" giving her a mischievous look.

Thea glares at him as they separate.

"Shut up. You're the main one who didn't want me to come." She sighs for a moment, and looks down at her shoes, a little embarrassed by the huge drama she made of it all.

"Really, I've come around more to the idea. They want me dead as much as they want Harry dead, so it'd just be stupid to put you all in more danger. And Harry would probably have even more of a fit if I turned up."

Ron smiles. "That is the most sensible thing that's ever come out of your mouth."

She rolls her eyes, but her face breaks into a grin. "I'm going to feel sick until all of you are back, but you know. Better to feel sick than be dead."

"We'll be fine, T. I promise I'll come back." Ron looks her firmly in the eyes.

"You can't promise me something like that." Her gaze falls to their feet.

There's a small silence between them, which is broken by Arthur Weasley, who's being followed by the twins.

"Hello, Thea – Ron, it's time for us to go."

Thea can't help herself; she leaps into Ron's embrace again, holding him tighter than she ever has before.

"Be careful, don't do anything stupid, and give them hell from me."