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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69. What Now?

    Oh god, what did she do . . . what did she do what did she do what did she do?

    Erela sat at her desk with her hands pressed against her eyes and rubbing her temples with the thumbs. For the last half an hour she had been sitting in her cubicle mentally and emotionally tormenting herself. 

    After she and Wisenburg stopped kissing Erela finally snapped out of her trance and pushed the werewolf off and scrambled off the couch to get her bag and clumsily put her street clothes on. Wisenburg didn’t say a thing about what had happened and he must had been shocked. By the time she slipped into jeans and her boots, she stormed out of the bathroom and went back into the living room to get her coat and scarf and Disapparated out of the room. No way in hell was she going to stick around after she pulled off that stunt.

    She ended up going back to her flat and spent the night with Markus, lying to him that she missed him and hated how she had a bed to herself. But it was only for the night and she was back on her “mission.” And when he kissed her . . . she thought of Landon and his scratchy chin, the taste of his mouth, and his scent that she swore lingered in her nostrils . . .

    She fucked up . . . she fucked up BAD. 

    Erela let out a sigh when Nero Vuk peeked over his cubicle wall down at her. Her eyes looked up at him with her eyebrows raised and slowly blinked at him. “Can I help you?”

    “You sigh a lot today. Something the matter?” he asked, his Croation accent as thick as ever.

    “Just . . . stressed . . . I suppose,” she shrugged and leaned back from her chair. “Got nothing to do and it’s been nothing but paperwork and wedding plans.”

    “Sounds boring.”

    “It is,” Erela nodded and stood up. “I’m going to go home and go through magazines on what to do with my hair.” She wasn’t exactly in the right mind at the moment to observe her coworkers and find anything suspicious about them. Maybe tomorrow.

    “There’s nothing else for you to do with it, no?”

    She rolled her eyes. “You’re right. Don’t have a date though, so the possibilities are still there,” she forced a smile and pulled her coat on. “Later.”

    “Goodnight.”

    Erela Disapparated and appeared in Wisenburg’s flat within a snap. Wisenburg and a guest of his looked up at her when the kid furrowed his brows and gave Wisenburg a look. From the looks of it they were discussing something and went quiet the moment she came into sight. Erela didn’t dare look toward the man she kissed the night before and, as casually as possible, went into the kitchen and heard them leave the room. Oh good, so they read the atmosphere too.

    The Auror let out a sigh and ran her hand through her hair, oh god staying there was going to be a nightmare. More awkward than it already was before. He kissed her . . . she kissed back . . . and then she ran away and disappeared for twenty-four hours without a word. Boy she can’t wait for the silence if or when he came back.

    She pulled out the sweet potato casserole she made some nights before and threw it in the oven after she preheated it and opened up the laptop to do some wedding research. Might as well distract herself and forget what had happened. It was just . . . the heat of the moment. Or something like that. He had just spent the whole night as a wolf; he was exhausted and possibly hormonal from the sudden change and did what he could to make her shut up. He was just . . . dazed out of his mind. Maybe.

    Erela looked through cascade curls, sleek updos, twisted chignon, and braided updo, but her mind was still not in its proper place. She pushed the laptop away and rest her face in her palms again, back in its place again like back at work hours ago. Dammit . . . she had to go to him and talk about what happened. But what could she possibly say to him? What would he say to her? What were they going to do about it!?

    “Just come back later, Parker,” Wisenburg’s voice muffled outside before the door opened. Oh god . . .

    Deep breath, lean back against her chair, and pulled her leg up to her chest and half hugged it as the weight of his feet wandered toward the kitchen. Erela pursed her lip when the werewolf’s figure came in and turned to the fridge to get a drink. The terrible . . . terrible silence . . . if felt too uncomfortable and so familiar and she absolutely hated it.

    "Look . . . We don't—I . . . I shouldn't have . . . sorry,” he forced out as he twisted the cap off a beer.

    Erela uncomfortably ran her hand through her hair over and over again, like it felt foreign on her scalp. "Yeah . . . sorry . . . about, you know, pushing you off—" she said, but her throat felt like it swelled up and cut off half her sentence.

    The werewolf swallowed over half the bottle before putting it on the counter and leaning against the fridge, "D-Don't apologize . . . Your engaged . . . And I am sosorry."

    Right . . . she was engaged. It had become a chore to remind herself she was and they had been for a long while. Erela lightly bit her nail and looked to the windowsill in the living room to the carnation. "You don't have to be sorry . . . I kissed back too, you know . . ."

    The man pursed his lips and scratched his chin. "It wasn't right . . . I . . ."

    She looked toward his direction and restrained herself from raising her brows too high in interest. "You . . .?"

    Landon stopped and cleared his throat, "Have stuff to do, I really should just go. And you should go be a fiancé or whatever you do . . ." He sighed and finished off his beer and walked off to his bedroom.

    "So . . . you're kicking me out?" she huffed sadly and pushed herself off the chair and watched him up the stairs

    "No . . . Do whatever the fuck you want . . ."

    "How about a question game?" she raised a brow. He DID say whatever she wanted.

    "I didn't say I would do 'whatever the fuck you wanted'."

    She flat out ignored him and crossed her arms. "Why did you do it then if you were just going to be sorry after?"

    "How about fuck you."
    
    "No thanks, I think I'm good," she rolled her eyes. God, she actually said that . . . what the hell was she thinking? She could just imagine him rolling his eyes at what she said. He then came back with his coat in his hands and came down the stairs in a hurry. Erela hoped he would stop and say something more to her. Sure, he apologized. But she felt the kiss was more than an accident and he wasn’t talking to her about it for reasons. But he walked past and her left the flat. Erela stared at the door and muttered, “See you . . .”

    She looked back at the couch and dragged her feet until she fell on her back and rubbed her face in her palms. Her heart ached at how distant they were, but it was to be expected . . . and she was flat out trying to push herself to deny she had someone waiting for her back home. She let one hand fall off the edge of the couch and one to her chest and fingered the ring.

    What was she going to do . . .?

    Oh god, what was she even doing . . .?

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