𝕯espite what half the wizarding world and her peers may believe, Winnie Bulstrode is a master at control. Years of suppression make her walls splattered with emotions that fight to be released. It may flicker and shatter into fragments of anger at times, but her feelings are kept tightly to her heart.

           The blonde is aware that there is a problem with her heart. She is aware of the faulty vials, the faulty bloodstream that pumps and gives life to her heart. It is broken, however, and she is very much aware of the fact. Ever since she was a child, she has had sticky apple sauce cheeks and fingers.

           The problem with Winnie Bulstrode's heart is that it makes her feel too much. She handles everything, even emotions that aren't even her own.

         If she allowed herself, she would enter a room and have emotions crash over like a series of ocean waves. Crashing into her, tasting peaches in the summer from swallowing acid that burns your throat all the way down.

         Her parents have told her she is too dramatic, that she simply imagines those feelings, and she needs to clamp down. Needs to be mature and reasonable. Winne has tried to be both of those things ever since she was five.

         When she was five, she lost her pet bunny, Oscar. The blonde had sat and cried for hours, her cheek sore and stained with tear tracks. She sniffled and whimpered like one had lost their mother, but a wicked pain in her heart made her feel hollow, empty like she could never feel warmth again.

        The problem is, while grieving for her own pet, she felt her sister's hollow loss in her chest. Felt every tear and sob that raked Millie's chest as she sat inches from her.

         When Winnie was seven, she snuck away to greet the old man above her bedroom. Where Firewhiskey burned her nostrils, and the smell of cigars stained her clothing. While she sat, hands wrapped around a brown teddy bear, she was hit with a wave of grief so real she wept. Her Grandfather looked at her with one twinkling eye and told her stories of his late wife.

            She was only seven and never had faced a death that burned her so tenderly, yet she felt that urgent grip so fiercely that her Grandfather uttered words she will never forget.

        "You, my dear, are cursed with a bleeding heart."

           It wouldn't be until Winnie Bulstrode was twelve years old, seeing the blank nothingness flashing in her parent's eyes, she would understand what that meant.

           Every night, she would lay with her hair cascaded over the crimson cotton of her pillow for most of her life. Her heart hammering as she stared at the tiny, white ball of light she would summon with her wand from above her heart. Watching it twists and burns brightly with every emotion she sucked out of people and ignored with a raise of her chin.

           Then, she let it float back down, sink in between her ribs and lodge itself back into her heart. Before it melted into her bloodstream and became a reality of emotions and not just a constant itch in her soul, she would wash it all away in books. Her eyes closed, and her mind strained against the pressure as she locked away those emotions, keeping them hidden in some secret layer of her mind in the library she had built full of books she never dared to open.

                 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.

          Winnie slammed her bag down, flinching when it landed far too harshly then she intended. Ignoring it and those around her, she grasped a bowl and began to pour porridge into it. Sprinkling it with raspberries and honey from the items in front of her before swirling it together with her silver spoon.

         "What's wrong with you?" Cordelia questioned, one eyebrow arched as the blonde breathed heavily from her nostrils. She chewed her food harshly, narrowing her eyes at her cousin, who stared back with confusion across her face. Winnie, who was doing her best to ignore the sudden sharp emotions radiating from Pansy Parkinson, who sat several seats down, swallowed thickly.

          "Nothing," Winnie replied, the words tasting sour on her lips. Later, she will come to the sharp realization that she has never openly lied to her cousin. Yet, the words she wishes to tell Cordelia stops short on her tongue. 'I'm in some old family curse where I have to feel everyone's emotions, where nothing is just mine because my brain and heart feel like it's crying every day. Like Pansy Parkinson is currently feeling the deepest heartbreak, and it's slowly making my throat grow heavy with emotion, and I just might cry if I focus hard enough on it.' But none of that leaves her lips; instead, she places her best smile on her face. "I'm just exhausted, really."

           "Why are you exhausted?" Cordelia questions, her words falling lifelessly as Winnie holds back a snort. Instead, she scoops up another spoonful of her porridge and flickers her eyes only once towards Pansy.

         "I had a long night" isn't technically a lie. She did, in fact, stay up most of the night.

            "What happened to your hand?" Cordelia questions now, eyeing the blue fabric as Winnie grinds her teeth. Pansy's emotion is so profoundly cut across her own now that her skin feels prickly. Clashing with Cordelia's own suspension, she feels rigid and like she may explode any minute. Cordelia's gaze is tied on her face like a hawk, and as her cousin opens her mouth to ask another question, Winnie drops her spoon.

          "Oh, for goodness sake Cordelia!" Winnie snaps, eyes narrowed and back straight with tension. "Stop asking questions!" She finishes, lips curving into a frown as all emotions suddenly disappear, and she finally breathes a shaky breath. Feeling like her own self again in her skin, it's only then that she realizes she just yelled at her cousin for asking simple questions. Feeling somewhat exhausted, she pinches the bridge of her nose, shoulders shagging. "Sorry, everything's just fine, okay?" Winnie adds quietly, blinking to see her cousin watching her worriedly.

        The blonde breaks their eye contact quickly, noticing that Pansy is no longer in the Great Hall. Winnie twists her ring, chewing slightly on her bottom lip before eating another spoonful. The porridge tastes plain, and her stomach no longer seems hungry. In fact, she feels like she doesn't wish to eat anything. So she drops her spoon, shoving the bowl away with a defeated stare.

           This whole no-control thing is becoming way more of a problem than she ever expected.

            "Winnie," Cordelia starts, voice small and gentle as the brunette glances up at her cousin. Seeing her pointed face twisted downward. Lips in a frown and eyes sparkling with concern hit Winnie square in the chest. The blonde glanced away quickly, wrinkling her nose in the process.

            "What, Cordelia?" Winnie mumbled, twisting her ring before she rubbed the tip of her nose.

             "Did you have detention with Umbridge last night?" Cordelia questioned quietly, voice a murmur as she leaned closer. Winnie's body froze, her eyes widening a fraction as her mouth closed momentarily.

             "How did you know?" Winnie questioned, eyes narrowing as she absently picked at the blue piece of bandage on her hand, running her finger over the sore area.

            "I'm not stupid," Cordelia spoke matter-of-factly, pushing her plate of fruit aside and leaning forward on her elbows. 'I've seen people walking around with a bandage like that. Tracey returned from detention the other night with the words 'I will not talk back' carved into the back of her hand."

           Winnie frowned, glancing down at the fabric on her hand. She shuddered slightly, grateful for the sudden distraction from her mind. "It hurt like hell," she admitted, unwrapping the material slowly. The blonde winched as the sticky burlap sap she had placed earlier that morning tore at her skin, slowly revealing the raised, red words on her hand. Cordelia reached for it, running a finger over the dried blood caked words. A sharp ping of pain rang over her hand as she flinched, "Ouch! Don't touch it." She hissed, cradling the wrist to her body before wrapping it once again.

             "Sorry," Cordelia frowned, leaning back in her seat. "If you want to stop by my common room, I can give you some of the leftover burlap essences I let Claire borrow. It helps," the brunette offered while Winnie shook her head, rubbing her thumb absently over the fabric.

           "It's okay, I can handle it," she replied, rubbing her thumb over her silver ring as Cordelia tracked her movements.

            "Are you sure?" Cordelia questioned slowly, pursing her lips as she raised her eyebrow. The blonde glanced over at her cousin, nodding in a simple yes as she shifted. Feeling rigid again, she quickly dipped a strawberry in cream.

          "I didn't even do anything bad. There was this first year in the corridor who Umbitch," she paused as Cordelia stifled a giggle, making Winnie's shoulders relax slightly. "Was giving detention, so I go over there, right, and I tell her to stop at children, and she tries to hex me! Hex me! What kind of Professor would do that to a student for standing up for a bloody child? I was furious, and Theodore didn't make it any better."

            "Hold on, Theo came to your rescue?" Cordelia questioned suddenly, eyes narrowed and staring at her as Winnie rolled her eyes.

           "He did not come to my rescue," Winnie scoffed, ignoring her cousin's grin. "I was doing perfectly fine without him. He didn't need to pretend that I'm his girlfriend-"

            "He said you were his girlfriend? In front of Umbridge?" Cordelia's mouth fell open as Winnie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, glancing towards the staff table where Umbridge was thankful, not sitting.

             "Yeah! Then he put his arm around me and said we would study. Like bloody hell we were! He's so infuriating, sometimes making me want to throw up." Winnie finishes, swallowing thickly as she tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. She remembers the irritation surging through her at the memory of Theodore's self-prideful grin.

           "Oh, stop being so childish," Cordelia groused, shifting in her seat as Winnie narrowed her eyes at her cousin. "He isn't that horrid," the blonde scoffed, letting out a bitter laugh as she shook her head.

          "Right, expect that he totally is!" Winnie offered, rolling her eyes as she leaned her chin on her uninjured hand. "Why can't he just leave me alone?"

          "That's a good question, actually," Cordelia replied absentmindedly; shifting glasses reached Winnie's ears as she lifted her head off her hand, watching as Cordelia poured herself some pumpkin juice. The blonde's nose wrinkled, having always hated the taste herself. "I always forget how damn good this pumpkin juice is."

          "You know we've been here for a month, right?" Winnie questioned slowly, raising an eyebrow.

             "What's your point?" Cordelia narrowed her eyebrows as Winnie snorted, amusement trickling through her system.

         "You're saying you haven't had pumpkin juice since we arrived?" The blonde teased, pushing the pumpkin juice toward her.

           "Shut up, you know what I meant," Cordelia argued, rolling her eyes as Winnie's lips tilted upwards ever so slightly. "What time did you end up finishing detention?"

           Winnie probed her chin on her hand again, tapping her pointer finger on her chin as she tried to remember when she returned. "I think it was ... ten-thirty. We went to the kitchens for a bite afterward, peanut butter sandwiches."

           "Peanut butter sandwiches are disgusting," Cordelia commented as Winnie sent her a glare before watching Cordelia's nose wrinkle. "Did you say we?"

          "Yeah, Potter and I were hungry, so we stopped by there," Winnie shrugged, hazel eyes watching as Cordelia's eyebrows pinched against her forehead.

"Since when are you friends with Potter?" Cordelia asked, tilting her head at the blonde as Winnie sighed, shrugging. "I've never seen you talk to him once."

         "I'm not. Well," she paused, sucking on her teeth slowly, "he's nice." It took her by surprise as the words left her mouth. She realized she meant them. That Potter, the awkward head of raven curls, was easy to talk to.

             "So he's not as short-tempered as he is in class?" Cordelia inquired, face pinched in as Winnie snorted, shaking her head.

           "Not at all. He's an awkward little shit, honestly," Winnie replied, leaning back to crack her back as a loud pop went through the air. "He's cool, though. You'd like him. Oh, I forgot to ask, why are you here so early? Saturday's are usually when you sleep in."

           It happened slowly, the twist in the air as Winnie's lungs filled with the familiar weight. Her walls pressed in on her chest and heart as she sat straighter, muscles tensing. Drops of lemon and oranges filled her mouth as she breathed heavily, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as grief raked out of her cousin and into her."

          "Oh, I just... I couldn't sleep," Cordelia shrugged, the lie slipping off her tongue as Winnie shifted. Her thumb rubbed against the silver ring on her finger, and a boulder grew in her throat, making a slight nudge of pain erupt her every time she swallowed.

          "Something's wrong, isn't it?" Winnie's voice tumbled out of her lips, taut and filled with a sudden bout of worry.

         "No, of course not. Why do you say that?" Cordelia questioned, and Winnie managed to roll her eyes through the haze of grief.

          "Come off it. You have that 'woe is me' look on your face. You can tell me," Winnie urged, chewing on the inside of her cheek as Cordelia's eyes cast downwards towards the table. Winnie's heart thumped louder in her ears, feeling her cousin's emotions deeper as an uncomfortable grip took hold of her shoulder. She couldn't escape this or hide it on her bookshelf.

            "It's Max's birthday today," Cordelia muttered half-heartedly as Winnie's lips fell open. Suddenly everything made sense, why the grief radiating off of Cordelia was so strong.

           Max was the dead Flint sibling who appeared in only glimpses of Winnie's early childhood. The one with the happy smile and floppy hair like a puppy dog told her and Cordelia stories about dragons and smiled kindly upon them. The brother who had fallen dead in the middle of the day had been there smiling one day, only to be buried the next.

           When Cordelia Flint lost her brother, she lost a piece of herself along with him. Winnie knew how severely Cordelia took and still takes Max's death. She refused to talk about her brother. Refused to even mention a single word about him.

             Her grief sagged down on Winnie's shoulders, and she did something she hadn't done since she was seven. She reached out.

               "Are you okay?" Winnie questioned softly, reaching out and wrapping her hands around Cordelia's. Feeling her skin under hers, she forced her mind to focus on the sun's warmth, the water lapping against beaches, and the feeling of safety washing over her whenever she stepped inside Hogwarts. She felt the warmth of muddled happiness wash over her, travelling up her spine and through her bones, bursting through her fingertips and latching onto Cordelia.

             It was an action she hadn't done in a while, in doing so caused consequences. It caused her heart to shudder, splinter and grow weaker, causing more emotions to hit her furiously. Each time she eased another person's anguish, she opened up more. The more she opened up, the less likely she could control her bookcase.

           But this was Cordelia, and for Cordelia, she would do anything.

            She saw it the moment it happened, the relaxed state of Cordelia's shoulders, the smoothed-out ridges of her face and the clearness that sparkled in her blue eyes. And when Winnie offered to have a shopping spree before attending Hogs head, the brunette agreed with a small smile.

         They left for Hogsmeade when Winnie's heart sank, realizing she could no longer hide behind her bookshelf. For now, everything was open.

EDITED APRIL 8TH / I still can't stand this chapter but oh well!