Marlene wasn’t often confused by life. Things happened—you dealt with them or you didn’t. And she was the sort to deal.

But this? This had her twisted up in knots.

To say she was baffled when she found out you were dating a boy was putting it mildly. No, baffled was polite. It was an insult, actually. Because what the hell was she supposed to make of that?

Not after everything.

Merlin, before he showed up, the two of you were—something. You had to be. The kisses at parties, the way your hand lingered on hers a second too long, the nights you curled up beside her in bed, whispering things that felt heavier than just friendly words.

It hadn’t been nothing. She knew that. She felt it in her chest like a bruise every time you looked away.

But then he happened. And now every time she so much as entered a room, you were already halfway out of it. Any attempt to talk? Dodged. Eyes? Avoided. It was like you were trying to erase her. Pretend nothing had ever happened. That you had never happened.

It was driving her up the wall.

So when she caught you trying to slip out of the Gryffindor common room again, she moved fast —cut you off, stepping into your path before you could vanish on her one more time.

“We need to talk,” she said, her voice low and sharp, like it physically cost her not to yell.

Her jaw was set, but her eyes—those betrayed her. All storm and ache.