By the time I am back in my dorm, my voice is hoarser than usual, and I'm pretty sure that my red eyes, shaking frame, and bruised hand don't make me look much better.

The moment Susan sees me, she gets up, her eyes widening.

I have never seen Susan so horrified. Usually, she is like a bottle, and her emotions are tucked safely underneath, but I can see the wide eyes, the slightly shaking hands, the bit lip before she rushes to her nightstand, pulling out some ointment.

"This should be good for your hand," she says.

She doesn't ask what happened. But the curiosity is probably itching her, begging her. And instead of satisfying her curiosity, I take the ointment and settle onto my bed, rubbing it against my bruised skin.

Susan watches as she smooths down her sheets, then her pajamas, before climbing onto her bed. Her perfect curls, I notice, are more frizzy than usual, and as she lets out a small yawn, I notice a band-aid on her finger.

"What happened?" I ask, inclining my head towards the band-aid as I massage my wrist.

"Oh, this?" Susan asks, raising her cut hand. "Kitchen accident. What about you?"

"Accident, too."

Susan lies down, giving me a sad smile. She knows.

"I'm sorry," is all she says, however, as she turns away.

"Me too," I murmur.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Potter?" She is whispering now, even if it's only the two of us in this warm room. "Don't apologize."

"You deserve an apology. Everyone around me does."

Susan doesn't respond. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, occasionally touching my neck, massaging the fading bruises and staring at the crescent-shaped scar on the back of my right hand.

. . .

When I wake up, it is chaos.

Not in the dorms, no. Susan is gone, her bed neatly made and everything obsessively organized with not a single speck of dust in sight. It is quiet and small. It is not peaceful, but not chaotic, either.

This changes when I head outside.

I told Draco that it was okay if he told everyone, because I would deal with it, because a Potter always perseveres. That is what my mother did. That is what my father did.

But I am not them.

When everyone stares at me, Harry Potter's sister, Lily Potter's daughter, James Potter's daughter, I freeze.

They don't know. I am not brave, or courageous, or lively. I am the girl who sacrificed her sleep and time to become starry-eyed for a horrible, terrible boy, to be kissed like she was never before, to laugh like she'd never laughed before. I am the girl who mixed Potions early in the morning, right before the sun rose, just to make someone proud. I am the girl who followed my brother down into a Chamber, into a game, into the Shrieking Shack, just to stay with him.

I am a Potter by blood, but not by anything else.

I turn to Susan, then Harry, then Ron, then Hermione. I cannot look at Draco, but all these faces, these disappointed, tired faces, have caused my heart to be cut up and smashed onto the cold, hard floor. I know I shouldn't have fallen for him ━━━ hell, my heart still races when he looks at me ━━━ but my heart is still sticky with bruises, a bleeding wound.

It is my heart in the first place that beckoned me to the stars, to a secret room, to a snake-tattooed boy with platinum hair and a cruel smile. It is my heart now that is hurting, that is crying, that is screaming.

I turn to Draco, expecting a cruel smile. I don't know now how he felt when he kissed me. Maybe he never felt anything and his tears were a crocodile's, as fake as those special words he whispered in my ears.

But he looks numb, dull, and as tired as I am. Maybe it's because these rumors are going to ruin his life too, for being with a disgraceful half-blood, a Potter no less.

And our once blazing house is now frozen.

I run back to the Commons, all the way up the stairs, and into my room, burying my zombie-looking face into my white pillow, trying not to scream.

notes / "oh look, my actions have consequences!" - chrys, probably