Chapter 15: I Have the Greatest Stepmom Ever

                                    

                                          
Chapter 15: I Have the Greatest Stepmom Ever
So, what now?
It's been two weeks since the tournament ended, and I'm home. Laying in bed, doing nothing. There's a thousand galleons beside my bed. Untouched. My dad refuses to use it for an apartment, and I don't want to look at it. I roll over onto my stomach and let my hand dangle over the side of the bed, my fingertips brushing the leather pouch the money is in.
What now?
Dirty money. I should give it away. Money I don't deserve. 
I sigh and bury my face in my pillow. I'm going to rot here. I roll over onto my back and roll my sleeve up. Play with the edge of the bandages. The cut is almost healed, but it's going to leave a scar.
A knock on my door has me scrambling like a wild animal caught in a light beam.
"Uh, yeah?" I call, trying to look presentable. In my pajamas with my wild hair, I'm sure I'm anything but.
"Hey, hon."
"Oh, Nat, hi," I say and watch her with wide eyes. She slips into my room and shuts the door behind her. She presses her back against the door, hands folded behind her back, like she's afraid to step any closer. She watches me for a few moments before she gathers the courage to say something to the deranged beast she's harboring in the second bedroom of her apartment.
"How are you?" she asks.
"Good," I say. It's reflexive. Instinctive. Mechanical. But it's not enough.
"You don't have to lie to me," she says, pushing off of the door and wandering a bit closer. She walks to my dresser and adjusts the placement of every single trinket I own, blowing invisible dust off of them.
"I'm fine," I say.
"Are you sure?" she asks and looks over her shoulder. I look away. "Honey?"
"Well, I don't know," I finally say. "I want to be fine."
"Hon, you haven't left the apartment since you got here," she says gently, sitting on the edge of my bed. "You barely leave your room. You haven't talked to me or your dad about anything. We just want to make sure you're okay. This isn't like you—the isolation. You never close yourself up in your room like this. We're just a little worried is all."
"I mean, I don't know, Nat," I say and shrug. "Obviously, I'm a little shaken up, but—"
"I talked to Viktor."
The words die in my throat, smothered by his name. By the idea of him. I clamp my mouth shut and watch as her hand creeps over to mine, her fingers brushing the top of my hand.
"And I know about you two," she adds. "I saw the Daily Prophet articles. I hid them from your dad, of course... But, hon... I don't know what happened between you and Viktor, but he was devastated. The poor boy couldn't stop shaking. I just... you and Viktor were both in that maze. Whatever left him in that state... You deserve to heal, but healing sometimes requires more than time. You need to talk about it."
"There are things I don't want to relive."
"I know."
"And Dad would be heartbroken if he knew what happened. He doesn't deserve that."
"I know," Nat says again, squeezing my hand. "That's what I'm here for. Whatever you say to me stays between us unless you say otherwise. You know how much I love keeping secrets from your dad." She cracks a small smile.
"I feel like... if I talk about what happened, it would make it worse," I whisper, meeting Nat's eyes. "I've been having trouble... when I remember it, I forget that I'm here. Like... for a moment, I'm back where I was."