She won’t - she absolutely will not break into tears at the soft, pitying way he says her name. The last time he said her name like that was after the death of her mum, and that’s because nothing ever felt gut-wrenching enough to make her cry. Until now. His embrace is the final straw as she hides her wet countenance in his shoulder, unable to respond for fear he’ll realize she’s crying like an idiot (as if he can’t feel it soaking through his shirt or anything). It has been exactly three weeks since the incident happened and she hasn’t allowed herself to feel it the entire time. Part of her is infuriated with the Ravenclaw for breaking down that wall; another part of her is relieved that he’s her best friend and not some stranger in the corridor. 

                                      "Honestly, Bry, you’ve known me for a long time - why would I flatter you? I don’t flatter anyone, you know this. Fine, you’re not some majestical being that can walk on water or anything, but you’re kind and you’ve got that dorky thing that whoever the bloke is would find adorable. And you really are gorgeous, like it’s unnecessary how gorgeous you are,” she pauses, shooting the other a fake envious look before smiling, “so no, it’s not flattery; it’s the bloody truth. He’d be damned lucky with you by his side. So just go for it, love!” 

                             “Congratulations! How long did it take you to get that? - And for the record, I didn’t believe them, actually. Nothing about you screams psychopath.” 

                               She honed in on the other’s words, desperately seeking a distraction from the pain in her leg. Eyes followed them as she limped (with the help of Fatima) to the Hospital Wing. “Entertainment’s so hard to find these days,” the young brunette murmurs, flashing a smirk towards the other students who hadn’t taken a class in Minding Their Own Business 101 it seems. 

                                           “Not bad, Bagnold - not good, either, but ...” She teases, accepting the hand and standing to her feet. She pushes back the chestnut-colored mess that was her hair from her face and takes a good look at the other. “Where was your mind just now? If you’re not careful, you could be doing a graceful dive like moi.” 

                             She wanted to say something witty; something truly Marie-esque. Her default is to joke about things that she deems foolish, but for once, looking into Julian’s eyes, she doesn’t want to push her feelings aside. For once, she’d like to be selfish and allow someone to see the pain that she’s been caused. Her fingers trail to her mother’s locket, tracing the outline as she tries to decide what to tell him. - - - A minute later, her fingers still, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “The thing is I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life, Julian. But .... I’m afraid ....” Whoa, easy there. Tears were not part of the deal. And wasn’t this supposed to be fun? If Marie looked at her best friend now, she’d surely break into a million, sentimental pieces, so she keeps her eyes closed. Once the lump in her throat is significantly smaller, she continues. “He really hurt me that day ... and nothing, not even the first time I broke my arm, will compare to the pain I’m feeling now. And if love is never having the chance to show someone I’m worthy ... or someday, down the road, he finds someone else better like those two downstairs .... then I don’t want it.” 

                                       “Oi, pretty girl, I’m having a hard time believing someone would be that stupid not to see you the same way. He’s lucky you fancy him out of any guy you could have, in fact,” she nudges her friend with an encouraging smile. “Maybe he’s taking his time. Love is frightening and it’s nothing that you did, of course. Maybe he’s just scared. - - - Have you known him for a long time??” 

                                   A low, exasperated groan escapes her lips as she examines the aftermath of the fall. Her books had flown out of her grasp and scattered around them, her assignments having been stamped with footprints big and small. Her attention returns to the other with a small smile. “If the thought of staying in bed didn’t sound appealing before, it sure as Hell does now,” she joked, stooping to get a nearby textbook. 

         “Okay .... yeah!! A badass princess .... that’s what I’ll be!! Forget Quid; I have found a new dream, ladies and gentlemen!!” She announces it to the crowd of students moving their way past them in the corridor, people who were previously shooting glances in their direction after her fall from grace. They scattered at the raise of her voice, faces drawn to each other as if they were in conversation the entire time. Marie rolls her eyes, brushing off the dirt from her skirt. “You’re .... Alecto, right?? Word is you bit the head off of a snake last summer and tattooed its blood on your arm.” 

                                                 Marie rolls her doe-brown hues, chucking a blue worm at him. “Oi, if you don’t choose dare at some point in this game, I’m never talking to you again,” she warns, though they both know that she might stick true to her word for a week before she starts to miss him. “And I pick .... truth.” 

                               Victory was inevitable; Bryony didn’t have a chance once the Gryffie used her interrogational skills. Marie frowns at what the other says, holding up a finger. “So .... you know this ... because you’ve already had a chat with him, right?? It’s the only thing that makes sense - I mean - you would’ve had to hear it coming from his mouth directly for that to be the end.”