Half-Blood

Fifty years after Harry Potter destroyed Lord Voldemort, the biggest threat of the wizarding world, there was finally peace. Erela Harris, an awkward witch, starts her life off in Hogwarts to try and discover who she really is, all while struggling to fight her unknown destiny. Only when the time comes will she face the choice between what is right and what is easy.

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66. Colors

    Erela woke up the next morning with a crick in her neck. The auror pushed herself up and fisted the knot in her neck she couldn’t quite reach, her muscles screamed in response to the additional pain and felt stiffer the more she massaged it. Her arms stretched up over her head and pulled back until her shoulder muscles couldn’t bend back any farther, her muscles pulling back and shivered awake when Erela dropped her arms and leaned back on the couch. 

    How was it morning already?

    She ran her hands through her mess of hair and walked off toward the bathroom to clean herself up. Erela went and took a shower to wash all of work and sweat from the day before, brushed her teeth, and towel dried her hair. She didn’t have work that day, so it didn’t really matter that her hair would look like a chaotic mess. After cleaning herself up, she slipped into a sweatshirt that was two sizes too big and shorts and made way to the kitchen to make some coffee for Wisenburg and herself.

    Not a peep came from the bedroom, either the werewolf was still asleep or he had already left while she was still out of it. If he were home, he would have heard her moving around and woken up from his sensitive canine hearing. And if her dawdling around didn’t wake him, then the smell of coffee would. While the coffee brewed, Erela snooped through his fridge to find what he had to eat, finding mainly leftovers. 

    Yep, definitely a bachelor’s diet.

    Suppose she could go shopping for some food, who knew how long she would be staying for and it was already a given she wasn’t going to have takeout that often unless she was too tired from work. With a shrug, Erela pulled her wand out from her sweatshirt pocket and waved it once when the kitchen came to life. The eggs had floated out of the fridge with sausage links and bacon when Erela turned around the corner up the stairs to go wake the werewolf up for breakfast.

    It was a one bedroom flat with one bathroom, the only bathroom being located upstairs all the way down the hall. He must have been out if he didn’t hear the shower running so close to his room. But it was worth a check, Erela wasn’t entirely sure he was a heavy sleeper since he would be ready before her or the same time as her back when they were in school together. And immediately her neutral mood hit rock bottom.

    Not because they weren’t together, but because she remembered Stacee would be with Wisenburg 90% of time. She wondered how drastically different their lives would have been if he were still alive . . .

    Erela knocked on the door of the bedroom and waited for any sound from the other side. Nothing. One more try. She knocked again. Nothing. She wrapped her hand around the knob and turned it as quietly as possible, with a light push she peeked through the crack and widened the door more and more until she had a good look of the mess. No werewolf in sight, just as she thought.

    The auror closed the door behind her and bounded down the stairs and straight to the kitchen to check on breakfast. Erela let out a yawn and checked on the bacon frying in the pan when the coffee maker dinged at her. Poison was ready. She turned around, took a clean mug from the cabinet, and poured herself her caffeinated beverage. Some peppermint cream and it was nice and sweet for her. While the magic did all the cooking, Erela went to the laptop Wisenburg left on the table and went searching for any news going on in the muggle world. 

    No way in hell would the wizarding world evolve into the digital age when the internet is accessible to EVERYONE. Too dangerous . . .

    Erela let out a yawn, sipped her coffee, and checked what the weather was like for the week. As the page loaded, Erela did some online browsing on what to get everyone for Christmas. Should she get something for the werewolf too for letting her stay in his flat? Would that be too weird? Running a hand through her drenched hair, she clicked on the weather tab and checked that it would be raining. Typical. 

    The lunar forecast showed that tonight was tonight.

    The color from Erela’s face completely drained when she saw the full moon exhibit on the screen. How could she not have noticed? But, then again, even if she did notice he wouldn’t let her take care of him during his lunar cycles let alone see how ill he had been. 

    And he had gone out for the rest of the day . . .

    Erela tapped her finger irritably and typed up a sight dedicated to flower gifts. Might as well distract herself with more shopping. Her mum’s birthday was coming up soon anyway and she absolutely adored flowers. Especially since England was such a grey country, the flat was always in dire need of color for her. That and she had recently got a raise in her salary, so a celebratory birthday bouquet will widen that smile of hers.

    Erela absently typed flowers that mean to congratulate someone, hoping to find a flower that was being sold in the U.K. and was colorful enough for her taste. Nothing but carnations were recommended, especially since carnations seemed to be the one flower that was widely popular to give for Mother’s Day. Whatever, might as well.

    With a click of a button, there was a small list of what every color of carnations meant. As she read for the pink carnation, she read on what the striped one meant after remembering seeing the carnation change back in the treehouse. “Regret; sorry I can’t be with you; wish I could be with you . . .” Erela blinked a couple times and looked up at the carnation on the windowsill of the living room. 

    Red . . .

    It was stripped before she got there and the moment she began to stay there it stayed red . . .

    Erela looked up the meaning of a deep red carnation, her palms sweating and trembled as she scrolled down and read on . . . “Deep love and affection; My heart aches for you.”

    Her breathing became shallow and shaky, everything in the kitchen completely dropped and the smell of burning engulfed the fresh air in the kitchen and into the living room. Erela quickly got up to pull the frying pan off the stove, turned off the stove, opened up all the windows, and cleaned up the mess her broken concentration made. Oh god, she shouldn’t be shaken by what the meaning of colored flowers meant. 

    It was just a coincidence . . .

    Erela scrubbed bacon grease and picked up scrambled egg off the floor, anything to distract her from the rollercoaster ride of emotions that writhed and exploded. She scratched an itch from her forehead and immediately noticed how high her temperature was. Immediately pressing the back of her hand against her face, her cheeks burned as red as the carnation in the living room.

    Oh god . . .

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