CHAPTER TWELVE 
whilst reality sinks in

cw: depictions of a panic attack & minor injury detail

                           𖦹 ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ˚⋆˚ 𖦹

   COVE FINDS HERSELF STUCK AT A crossroads.

   The first path curves toward freedom. It sees her painted in a picture of seafoam and salt, the concept of time fading to a trivial thing of the past when she's liberated from all the mortal troubles and stress. In this vision, the Cove that walks this path is content in her life at sea, her days spent swimming in the vast oceans surrounded by the family she holds so dear regardless of whether they're her blood relatives or not. Her worst troubles regard entanglement in fishing nets or territory disputes with the storm kelpies, her worries diluted down to dregs at the back of her mind that evade her on the best days.

   However, the second path swerves away from the first and stretches into the horizon. It takes her towards a full life on two legs with a family to call her own, the bigger picture merely a rough sketch that's awaiting more details. Maybe they'd have a nice house on the coast so that she'd never be far from the sea, perhaps a kneazle or two to make their lives all the sweeter. She would finally have the opportunity to pursue a job that could improve the rights of selkies and other sea folk for good, to fight for what's right in the world she's choosing to live in.

   Would it be fair to leave behind a world of change so that she can eternally indulge in the other world she wants to conserve so badly? To unite with her people without making a difference to how they're perceived back on land?

   The first path, though enriched with freedom, means that Cove would completely lose her life. Her love. Everything on land that she holds dear to her would simply be left to rot. She would have to leave behind all of her friends and disappear into the sea without a trace like all of those other selkies that came before her. She'd lose her lifelines; Fallon, Mary, Remus. All of them left behind without a word from her as she spends the rest of her days in the depths of the sea. Erased, forgotten.

   Cove isn't sure that she has it in her to leave her human life behind. Devoting her days to the wilder side of her identity amongst the seaweed and tidal waves sounds like a dream, and yet she doesn't know if she can muster up the courage to completely abandon everyone she holds dear to her like that. She never thought she'd be forced to pick between her two families and, even though she's a little bit pissed with her at the moment, Madam Pomfrey is completely right — this double life of hers is already beginning to tear her apart.

   Huffing a sigh, Cove skims a stone across the surface of the Black Lake, shivering despite the cardigan wrapped tight around her shoulders. It sinks below the surface after a few hops across the murky waters, pulled down deep below the shore to be discarded and forgotten. Cove could almost laugh at the irony.

No, she can hardly remember how to laugh at a time like this. Instead of laughing at her predicament, her head is hung in shame as she lets the hot, salty tears pour from her downcast eyes. What's she supposed to do? The question echoes around in her head relentlessly, plaguing her every thought and corrupting until she can hardly dream of anything else.

Her breathing is growing more erratic by the second, an unfamiliar sinking feeling building up a horrible weighted pressure her gut. When more and more tears begin to break through her composure and stream down her face, there's nothing that she can do to stop them.

That nagging sensation of dread builds up until it's all consuming. The water feels too close to her. Even just looking at it is as good as drowning in it. She needs to get away. She needs to get back.

Everything else surrounding her begins to break away completely. Her surroundings dissolve and she feels so alone in the world, as if she's bound in place despite having nothing to anchor her down to reality. Now it feels as if it's just her and the water, every swish of the waves as they inch closer to the shore like a horrible warning about what's going to happen if she doesn't make her mind up soon. The water's coming to get her, to consume her. To swallow her whole. She can't let that happen. She isn't ready.

It's like she's frozen in place. This is wrong. Why can't she move away? That feeling of invisible hands grasping her neck and squeezing tight only intensifies. Her breathing stammers and she can't get a hold of it, her hands trembling so ferociously it's almost like they're going to snap from her wrists. Sweat beads at her temple. Her skin feels too tight on her skeleton. She feels all... wrong. It's suffocating, it's growing to be too much—

   "There you are!" someone calls, voice crackling like a warm bonfire. It should make her feel safer, make her feel happy. Cove doesn't know what to think anymore. The voice continues on, though it feels muffled in her ears. She feels miles away. "I've been looking everywhere for..."

   Remus stops in his tracks behind her, head crooked to the side as he takes her in. Her shoulders are trembling with uncontrollable sobs and it only takes a few more seconds for him to realise that she's hyperventilating too. She scrapes her nails against her hands as though she's trying to peel off her healed scar tissue and mar herself further, eyes vacant as they stare dead ahead at the water with unparalleled fear.

   Her heart is pounding as if it's trying to escape from her ribcage, her vision blurring with hazy tears as she's deafened by the roar of blood in her ears. She can't stop the shaking of her hands no matter how hard she fights to still them, her stomach churning as that feeling of dread overtakes her like a spring tide. Poseidon's name, her heart is beating so quickly.

   Cove can't breathe. She just can't. The feeling of being strangled dissolves into one more akin to being held underwater with no chance to come up for air, her breaths rattling around in her throat as she shakes all over. Her chest constricts, growing tight as she pierces the skin of her sweaty palms with her pointy nails. She shouldn't be drowning. She can't drown. Right?

The flesh on her hands is bleeding now but she can't find it in herself to stop. At least the scars are obscured by her tears, finally hidden away from her due to the ichor that cools her burning flesh. She yelps when two hands come down to gently pry them away, immediately releasing her when she begins to squirm away.

"Hey, hey," his voice is soft, eyebrows knitted in apparent concern. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Her view of the loch is obscured when he ducks down in front of her, his black school trousers muddied and his knees cut to ribbons by the rocks underfoot. He can't find it in himself to care. Instead, he instinctively reaches out another hand to her and this time she grapples onto it, trying to ground herself. What's wrong with her? It really feels like she's drowning now...

  "Cove, here, look at me," he urges. Her eyes lock onto his. "Copy my breathing, yeah? Deep breaths." She mimics his slightly exaggerated breathing pattern, steadying herself with sharp inhales and exhales. He squeezes her hand as gently as he can muster, giving her enough wiggle room to pull away from him if she changes her mind. "Just concentrate on your breathing. Stay in the present. You can get through this."

She's slowed her wild breaths back to a more reasonable pace, though her body is still wracked with wild shaking. The death grip she has on his palm shows no signs of letting up anytime soon, the stray baby hairs around her hairline clinging to the sweat on her forehead.

Her cheeks slowly colour pink. Embarrassment washes through her whilst the reality sinks into her bones. Cove can't help but feel as if she's just made a fool of herself in front of him, crying over water and her own indecisiveness. She buries her face in the crook of her elbow, sinking into the arm Remus tentatively wraps around her and willing herself not to break down in tears once more. The overwhelming sense of trepidation had melted away only to be replaced by the creeping anticipation for the panic to set in again, finding herself swathed in paranoia that she'll recover from her fears only to be pulled back under at any given moment.

  Meanwhile, Remus is sat racking his brains for another way to make her feel better. Fuck! What is he supposed to do? He doesn't want to go and make it worse than it already is.

   He begins to rifle through his pockets for something, anything, when his fingers brush over a moderately crushed bar of dark chocolate he'd bought off the Trolley Witch ages ago with Cove in mind. He's fairly sure he read somewhere that giving someone a little bit of food after panic attack is good. Something about regulating blood sugar, maybe? Fuck it. It's not like he has any more time to second guess himself.

  "Here, eat this," he says gently, handing her a corner of the chocolate.

   "Why?" she chokes out, her voice hoarse.

   "You'll feel better," he promises.

   She shoots him an odd look but relents, popping the piece of chocolate into her mouth with a little reluctance. Her fingertips thread through the notches of her knitwear, entangled in the soft fabric as the chilly air bites through the heat on her face and neck. The flesh around the scars on her palms, the ones that signified the very beginning of her predicament, has flared up into an angry fuchsia colour. The intense bleeding has calmed down until only a few droplets of blood surge from where she'd clawed too hard; dripping down to glide over her knuckles, beading around her wrists until they seep into her cardigan.

   "Come on," Remus says, voice vaguely strained with worry at the sight of blood. "We should go inside. Change of scenery an' that, yeah?"

   She nods mutely, allowing him to guide her up with a hand on her arm until she's standing on two wobbling legs, pins and needles coursing up them so intensely it's almost like she can feel the sensation in her very bones. The grass crunches under her boots and the whipping wind sends a shiver coursing down her spine, goosebumps rising to cover all the freckles on her arms.

   She can distantly hear Remus ask if she wants to go and see Madam Pomfrey for help. Cove shakes her head so fervently that it makes her neck feel a bit sore, her arms wrapping around herself tight in search of some much needed solace.

She doesn't have anything against Madam Pomfrey at all. Come on, she loves her! But, right now, she's trying to distance herself from the bearer of bad news to avoid any more tears than are completely necessary. Perhaps that isn't the best way to look at things, especially when she could do with her help, but Cove hasn't thinking straight at all recently. Knowing that she had been keeping mildly life-threatening secrets for months did sting a little bit.

A sniffle escapes her and she dries her face on her sleeve, the tear tracks on her face growing to feel uncomfortable. Cove can't help sinking into Remus' side for support, wanting nothing more than to curl up in his warmth forever and shake off every last thing that's plaguing her. He practically trips over himself trying to make her feel comfortable, pulling his arm over her shoulder to draw her in closer to his side before cursing himself and second guessing if he was getting ahead of himself. He can't seem to make his mind up on how much pressure to put on her, his touch varying between barely there and heavy around her frame, undecided on how to make her feel secure. He just wants her to know that she's safe with him, that everything's going to be alright.

"Is this okay?" he asks eventually, arm hanging a little awkwardly around her so that he doesn't make her feel caged in.

"Yeah," she whispers. "Just fine."

His hold finally relaxes around her and she can just barely feel something akin to contentment, the storm in her head quelling at the comfort he brings her. She doesn't think that she can physically burrow any closer to him, but that hardly stops her from trying. 

   Out of the corner of her eye, Cove spots him studying a crinkled piece of parchment, his face scrunched in total concentration. He mutters a curt incantation under his breath and taps the tip of his wand against it, folding it up. Cove decides that she'll have to ask him about it another time, eyes darting around the corridors for some kind of landmark that'll tell her where they're headed. She's unfamiliar with the path he's taking and what their destination actually is but it sounds like the commotion of the castle is dimming down the further they descend, the reshuffling stairs making her head spin slightly.

She's beginning to recognise increasingly more things. In all fairness, she does spend most of her time in the dungeons since she just so happens to reside there every night, becoming more accustomed to her environment with every step they venture forward. A few portraits that recognise her say hello or nod in acknowledgment, though she can only find it in herself to offer a weak smile in response.

He brings them to a halt before a faceless portrait that dominates the corridor with swirling detailing and vibrant colours that scald her vision. She takes in the artistry that pounces out the frame at her, eyes tracing between the fruits depicted in oil paint which are so realistic, they almost feel tangible.

The kitchens. She's familiar. As a Hufflepuff, Cove sternly believes that it'd be plain wrong for her to not be a regular, what with their common room only being a few paces down the hall. Remus doesn't hesitate to usher her inside, tickling the pear until it titters a squealing laugh and swings open to reveal a corridor with indescribably cozy warmth emanating from inside.

The house-elves are as happy to see them as always, scampering about to accommodate their every need if necessary. Remus waves off their insistence with a laugh and asks for a cup of chamomile tea for Cove at her request, as well as a black coffee for himself.

  They make a beeline for one of the smaller tables in the corner, littered with food and ingredients from all the different meal preparations the elves have to handle. Remus clears a small space so that they can comfortably sit with their drinks, pulling the chair around so that they're sat closer together — out of earshot, completely focused on one another. Cove takes a deep breath to try and relax the tension coursing through her body, going to twist her rings around her fingers and wincing when it makes her scratches flex agonisingly.

It's not lost on Remus. He rustles about in his bag for a bit before procuring a dinky cardboard box from the depths. Remus pulls a few plasters from inside, peeling all the packaging off of it before upturning his palm for her to take. She slips her hand into his without missing a beat. It puts a smile on his face.

A wave of his wand and a muttered spell spreads some herby-smelling salve across the incisions. She hisses through clenched teeth at the sting and he apologises profusely, pausing to make sure that she's still feeling alright. Then, with featherlight touches, he begins to gingerly place the plasters over the scratches on her hands. The ghost of a smile upturns her lips at the comical little drawings and affirmations scrawled over the plastic, her eyes blinking up at him with mirth glittering inside. He shakes his head with a gentle laugh, though the humour dissolves from his expression and softens into something

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he all but whispers, thumb stroking over the back of her knuckle when he's finished up.

Cove hesitates. Her chin bobs down into an unsure nod, unable to meet his eyes. "I, um, fainted last night," she begins. "After dinner."

He nods encouragingly. Fallon had told him all about it that morning, of course, but he didn't want to interrupt her.

"I don't really know the gory details of what happened when I was asleep, but one way or another I ended up in the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey to fix me up," she continues. "She— well, she told me something a wee bit, er—" Cove swallows, eyes pricking. "I dunno. Distressing?"

Remus hums, eyebrows knitted in concern. He tries not to wince when her hold on him grows even tighter.

She swallows the lump in her throat and tries to push through the strain of her doubt. Her voice wavers throughout her explanation, the words from earlier echoed, only now it's in her own words. Cove recites her troubles and ignores the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, fiddling with the plasters as she soldiers through her discomfort. Remus is a diligent listener, hanging onto her every word with pure concern scrawled over his expression.

He takes a minute to let it all sink in. When he's gotten over the initial shock, he surges forward to hug her without missing a beat and she simply lets him.

"I... Christ, Cove, I'm sorry," he whispers into her hair, holding her close. "That's horrible. You shouldn't be forced to choose like that."

"Tell me about it," she murmurs. Her hands ball into fists against his chest, her eyes squeezed shut. "I'm just... I'm so angry. I'm angry at the world and I'm angry at Pomfrey for not telling me but—" Her voice cracks. "But... I'm also really fuckin' angry at myself."

"It isn't your fault," he says firmly, baffled that she's somehow finding a way to pin all the blame back onto herself again. At her tears, Remus presses a kiss to the crown of her head. "I know, love. I know."

"I feel lost," she admits. "Like I'm in the dark and I'm completely alone. I dunno what I'm supposed to do, or who I'm supposed to choose."

His breath comes out in a shaky sigh. He gently pries her away from him, holding her at an arm's length to look her in the eyes. Remus' thumbs come up to swipe away her tears as they fall and her sobs waver slightly, calming down at the tender care written across his face. His eyes drift from her own for a minute.

"Whatever you decide," he begins. He thinks over his words with a thoughtful haze befalling him. "Whatever you choose to do... I'm here. You have me. I won't let you get lost ever again, Cove. You know that, right?"

She nods, sniffling a little. "Aye. Of course I do." Her smile breaks through her tears, sunshine through the storm clouds. "What would I do without you, m'eudail?"

Her hands come up to rest on his jaw, fingertips brushing over his scars delicately. Remus leans into her touch and she brushes a kiss to his lips, coffee meeting chamomile, then moving to lean her forehead against his. She pushes her worries away to the back of her mind for now, relishing in the feeling of simply being with him.

His presence comforts her, and she's willing to test the bounds of that for however long she may have left.

   For now it's just them. In the moment, that's all that seems to matter.

author's note!

i've never written a scene of a panic attack before so i hope that came across alright!! my creativity kind of fizzled out at the end but oh well

remember to vote and comment 🫶🏻 it really motivates me to keep writing and i love hearing all your thoughts x