I am in my dorm, getting ready to meet Dumbledore, imagining that everyone still cares, that Draco and I's end can be a new beginning.

But my heart refuses. I want to carve it out and watch it wither.

I am about to leave with a warm jumper, but my eyes narrow; I notice a note on my nightstand. It's not the one that I burned a few weeks ago, after getting back together with Draco, but another one, with a golden tint and perfect cursive.

Susan.

My stomach flips, and I grab the letter, pocketing it as I exit the room. My heart is pounding a million miles per hour, like the earthquake of my first relationship.

If I cannot tell Harry, or even Susan, then it's time I tell the person Draco is going to kill.

I will tell Dumbledore everything.

It is out of curfew, but I don't care. I'm sure Dumbledore will understand once he knows. After all, there is someone in the castle, preparing to kill him, and indirectly hurt innocents.

My heart is screaming at me to stop as I fire any sort of sweet that I can think of at the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office.

The doors finally open.

"I'm so sorry for intruding, Headmaster ━━━"

He only smiles at me. "Take a seat, Chrysanthemum."

I nod, relaxing on one of his chairs.

"Tea?" he asks.

I nod again, and he waves his hands, teacups and saucers floating towards me with brown liquid. He takes one, and I take the other, sipping softly.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

I square my shoulders, looking directly into his eyes. I know Dumbledore knows everything that goes on in this castle, but, what if he doesn't? What if ━━━

"Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater, and his mission is to kill you." I take a deep breath. "And he's planning on letting Death Eaters invade the castle using a Vanishing Cabinet. People could die, Headmaster."

Dumbledore merely raises a brow, as if he already knew. "How long have you known, Chrysanthemum?"

I flinch. There are two people I can never lie to, and one of them is him. There are rumors that he is a Legilimens, and that's why he knows everything, all of everyone's secrets, stored in one mind.

There is no point in lying to make me feel better. The whole truth deserves to be told.

"Of him wanting to kill you? A while. The Vanishing Cabinet, well, I found out about tonight."

He nods at me. "I am glad you came to me. I do have one inquiry, if you may. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

I want to cry again. "He said he would erase my memories, and then he decided not to ... but his family would die if I told them, Headmaster, I ━━━"

He stops me. "I understand."

"You do?"

"Our actions have consequences, and so do our emotions." The sparkle in his eyes is almost lost. "But if the heart is tricked, then it is not entirely your fault."

"What do you mean?" I ask slowly, even though I think I already know.

"Manipulation," Dumbledore said simply. "Mr. Malfoy manipulated you into keeping his secrets. He told you what you wanted to be told, and you believed it because no one else had."

"Because you're goddamn special, Potter."

That is all I have ever wanted to be, and he knew it. He cried in front of me, said sorry too many times to count, and found me whenever I was vulnerable, to slip his pretty words in.

And I, even though I knew it was wrong, let him. Because my heart hates my body, because my heart wants him.

"Harry hates me now," I whisper, even though I'm sure he knows. He knows everything, after all. "Because of what we did."

"He does not," Dumbledore says, as if that is a fact. "Harry is simply hurt and worried. If he finds out what Mr. Malfoy did, he will be quite angry. In fact, he speaks of you during our lessons."

"Your lessons," I say, letting that roll of my tongue. I briefly forgot. I'd been so busy avoiding everything that the only person in the world I could look at fell through my feet, too. And now I have no idea about anything, about anyone.

Dumbledore nods. "He speaks of you, wishing you'd realize."

A little too late for that, it seems.

"You are vulnerable to emotions, Chrysanthemum," he says, unkindly, "and perhaps that was your weakness that he exploited. But there are actions that even a manipulated heart cannot take."

"Like these," I say, almost numb as I lift my hands up. Purple bruises stain my pale skin, like how my dried tears stick onto my face.

Or the time he almost struck me. Or the time that he screamed into my face, pulled him towards him to trap me, made me comfort him, kissed me until I could not think ...

All for him. All so he could keep his goddamned secret.

If I lose my memories, well, I don't care anymore. I don't want to remember him. Hell, I don't want to remember anything.

Dumbledore is staring at my hands, the sparkle in his eyes gone completely. "Mr. Malfoy hurt your hands?"

I nod. "Two times."

"It is time I do something, then." He stands up. "You are free to leave."

"Where are you going to go?" I ask, also slowly standing up.

He gives me a look filled with sorrow, ignoring my question. "I am sorry, Chrysanthemum."

. . .

Tears pool in my eyes, and by the time I head back to my dorm, I try to remember everything, relish my memories with everyone I love.

Oh. I forgot to read Susan's letter.

Removing it from my pocket, I smooth the letter down, which crinkles in my touch.

My Dearest, Chrysanthemum,

I didn't want to tell you. I wanted you to figure it out for yourself, but it was so obvious to me. I saw it when you walked around, when you tried talking to me but you didn't, and even on those nights when you snuck out.

Figure it out. Figure out why you fancy him. There is a reason, I promise. Don't hate yourself for your heart. Choose what you do ━━━ that's all. Make it up to everyone you love, and make it up to yourself.

Everyone makes mistakes. He is yours.

So fix it.

Best wishes,

Susan.

Susan knows? She knows why I fell for Draco?

I grip the letter, tempted to rip it. Why didn't she tell me, if it was right under my nose all along? Then maybe I could've left ━━━ but would I have? I wouldn't have listened. I would've only heard my heart, the one who told me to heal it.

I just wanted someone to love me, I think. I know I'm selfish and wrong and I hate myself for it. At least now, I'm never going near him again.

I pause, remembering Remus sending me away, the late nights of Potions for one remark that barely made me smile, the lack of friends, and then Draco.

"You're interesting."

No. It's not possible. It cannot be.

"He told you what you wanted to be told, and you believed it because no one else had."

But there is a reason why I go by Chrys in school, why his words send a tingle down my spine, why I've never blushed unless he invaded my personal space or said those sweet nothings, and why I've been struggling in the darkness.

It was never about him.

My heart never wanted him.

Only his words, his sweet nothings, because of my cravings, because I want to be special, to be loved, and he's the only one who says those words out loud.

I laugh hysterically, pressing the letter to my chest.

I know now, Susan. I know.