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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67. Conflict

    Erela couldn’t stay at his flat for another moment. She Apparated back to her flat and went searching for Markus. “Mark? I’m home,” she called as she removed her coat and bounded down the stairs.

    “Ela, what’s wrong?” he called after her. Markus had learned that she never shortened his name unless she was in some level distress. Erela found him in the living room, pulled his face to hers and kissed him deeply. Markus kissed her back for a couple seconds when he pulled away and took her face between his hands. “Erela, what’s wrong?” he asked again.

    “It’s—” Erela paused for a moment, it was her emotions. She wasn’t too sure if she should continue her secret case anymore, especially with her ex-boyfriend whom may or may not still have feelings for her. “I’m just stressed,” she shook her head. “It’s the damn case, I’m getting nowhere and it frustrates me . . .”

    Markus let out a sigh of relief and pet her messy hair. “It’s because you’re doing this alone. Let me help you,” he offered.

    Erela immediately shook her head. “I can do it . . .” Not totally true, but he didn’t have to know she was working with a wanted werewolf. “I’m sorry, I’m just going crazy . . .” she muttered to herself.

    Markus planted a kiss on her forehead and then the tip of her nose, “You’re doing fine,” he told her. “I’m alright with your breakdowns and I’m okay with handling it forever.”

    For the rest of his life he was willing to deal with her emotional breakdowns. He was so committed it was ridiculous. Erela smiled at him and rose on her toes, Markus learned down and gently touched her lips with his own. She could feel the love ooze out of him and seep through her skin, but she felt absolutely nothing. Erela couldn’t mirror the same amount of affection he felt for her. Was it always like that? Did she always feel cold whenever they kissed?

    Markus was the first to separate their kiss and gently caressed Erela’s cheek with his thumb. “Feeling better?” 

    “A little,” she nodded and squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” Erela muttered with a slight smile.

    “I’m only guessing that you’re only here to relieve a little bit of stress?”

    “Maybe . . .” she shrugged. His lips curled into a sly smile and Erela pressed her finger against his lips, her eyes glowing with a teasing spark. “Not that form of relief.”

    “You sure?”

    “Positive.”

    “You’re a temptress.”

    “And your pickup lines are lame,” Erela rolled her eyes at him and backed away from him. “Sorry for my breakdown.”

    “It’s to be expected.” It was a stressful job; that was what he was thinking. And it was, even if it was a job that she made for herself. “I love you.”

    She couldn’t help but lightly smile and gave his hand a squeeze. “Love you too,” she answered, let his fingers slip away from her palm, and Apparated into Wisenburg’s flat. 

    The hell was she doing? The main reason she wanted to go back to Markus was just to reassure herself that her feelings for him were strong, that she was willing to marry the man and grow old with him. But she didn’t feel the warmth she thought she felt. Not even a spark of fireworks . . .

    Erela ran her hands through her hair and tugged at her roots while she paced around the room. Stupid . . . it was the damn flowers and their meaning. It screwed with her brain. Wisenburg didn’t have feelings for her, it was just a mere coincidence that they happened to be those colors whenever she looked at them. It was probably for someone else that he met some time ago. Besides . . . he and Erela broke up five years ago . . . he couldn’t still love her . . .

    They both made it clear that they moved on . . .

    Especially Erela . . . she had a great stable job she always wanted, a loving fiancé, and a bright and promising future . . .

    She got what she deserved . . .

    Still . . .

    The auror shook her head and walked outside to go shop for food. Might as well make dinner for herself and leave the leftovers for the werewolf when he came back from his transformation episode. The only thing that came in mind to make was the damn sweet potato casserole she learned how to make from Mrs. Wisenburg many Christmas’ ago. And that comment she had made so long ago about learning how to make it herself in the future, that woman was practically asking if Erela was interested in marrying her son . . .

    Erela let out a sigh and hugged herself to keep the cold out as she walked down the road toward the food market.

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