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Writer's pictureNemo

Adelaide's Heartbreak

It takes one corner, a moment of flightiness, and five seconds to break a heart. “You better start saving up. I’m about to pocket that ten galleon.” As much as Adelaide hated to admit it she had come to recognise Chris’s voice anywhere she went. Her ears would pick up the pitch of his laugh, the points slightly going upwards every time he called out over the crowd, and her eyes unconsciously followed, zooming into that smile of his, bright and careless. She couldn’t help it, but she was captivated, envious even over the freedom in which he lived. “You mean you bagged little-miss-perfect?” his friend questioned, a fist bumping against Chris’s chest as the rest of the group all honed in, loud whoops filling the otherwise empty hallways. Chris laughed derisively, his hands stuffed down in his pocket, his tie pulled a little loose as he threw his chin up at his friends. “Oh, nearly. Little Rosier is eating out of my hands right now, I’m actually about to pick her up from the brewery-club, or whatever club she has joined now,” he exclaimed, confidence flying off his whole person, bright and sparkling. Adelaide averted her eyes, leaning against the wall as she clenched her books tighter against her chest. Had that been the meaning of his attention? All his attempts to get into her good books, all the time he stepped up for her, pretending to be a friend? “I’m planning to take her to the Lake, you know,” Chris’s voice sounded so hollow all of a sudden as he discussed his plans with his friends. His plans of conquering her. Gulping Adelaide suddenly found it hard to breathe, her cheeks flushing as she wondered why she had ever allowed herself to think of the male as special. Why she had ever believed that she could be anything more than the weird nicknames that they had given her over the years of Hogwarts she had attended.


She felt disgusting. Adelaide had never minded any of the names. She hadn’t cared for the stares and glares she got as she joined and dropped clubs at her own leisure, or the hisses when she asked the professors to hand out their assignments. She even didn't mind the accusations she received when she came in and handed double the amount her classmates had done. She hadn’t minded it ever, but from Chris it felt like a cold shower, a betrayal of its purest kind. Probably because she had liked him so much.


As much as Adelaide hated to admit it she had grown a liking to the peer from Hufflepuff. Hiz zeal, his freedom, his devotion to friends. Surely, he had managed to get on her bad side in the first few weeks they got to know each other, what with him being entirely undevoted to his studies, putting play before work and all, but that was what the Ravenclaw had eventually come to admire as well. Was his attention really 10 galleons worth? Was her friendship just worth that much? Not wanting to hear more, unable to confront and face the answer, the female headed right back from where she came, slipping right back into the potions classroom that she had just left. He barely got the club right. Quietly the female dropped her books onto the table once more, rolled up her sleeves and set out to work again. Not a word or a glance was exchanged with the professor in the room, though she felt like she didn’t need to say anything for professor Hildegard to understand that she needed some room and time alone and within her thoughts. Within her schoolbag Adelaide ironically found a pouch of galleons. Courtesy of a family heritage and allowance that the female barely used other than to buy more books. Gritting her teeth the female tried to push the thought away. “Yo, Aladela,” a familiar voice popped up beside the female, an arm snaking around her shoulders casually. Stiffening Adelaide felt her lips pressing together in a long line as she tried to maintain her composure, warm breath wafting against her ear, causing a shiver of disgust to run down her spine. The arm around her shoulders felt heavy, burning even as Adelaide wished for nothing more than to actually incinerate the limb. “Chris,” she finally spoke, surprising herself with how cold her voice sounded. Slapping the Hufflepuff’s arm off her shoulder Adelaide reached for her bag, reaching for the pouch of money she had found earlier. “What’s wrong, why are you still brewing?” the male questioned, clearly not catching onto any of the hints, or ignoring the signals, both unwise as it only worsened Adelaide’s mood. “Let’s go to the Lake, the two of us, relax and all,” Chris continued, a smirk playing on his face as he tried to reach for her arm once more. Adelaide suddenly understood why hate and love were not opposites, but neighbours. The smile she had once considered charming suddenly seemed revolting, his touch a pestilence that she rather not contract. “Nothing much,” the female spoke aloofly, moving out of his reach as she counted the money she had in the pouch. “Just that I believe that this game has been going on for long enough,” she coolly continued, laying out ten pieces of gold on the table along with a knut. Chris’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the money in front of him. “10 galleons, right? And a knut, for the effort,” the female waved him off as she turned back to her pot. The potion was already brewing and the Ravenclaw knew that this was the tricky part that would make or destroy the brew. There was a silence in the room as Adelaide went on with her business, carefully following the instructions, moving around undisturbed as ever. “You are a bore,” Chris clicked his tongue, not bothering to swipe up the money that Adelaide had laid out. “Why would I need to steal money from someone like you? That’s disgusting,” the male continued before he turned around on his heels and walked out of the room. Adelaide kept quiet, her countenance hiding away all that she felt. The brew had failed that day, burning scorching black remains stuck at the bottom of her pot. At least she had the galleons to buy a new one. That book could wait. She would miss that silly nickname, however.

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