𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄, j. potter

──twenty four

Twenty four.

"OLIVIA, STOP," James grabbed her hand upon seeing a drop of blood falling to the floor.

She had been tending to the plants she and Euphemia had bought earlier that morning. It's supposed to be for the babies' room, to give the bland white walls a little bit of color, but Olivia's absentminded behavior had caused her to accidentally prick her finger at the thorns, drawing blood.

"Oh," she muttered to herself, not having realized what she was doing.

James sighs as he puts her hand under running water. He knows something was incredibly wrong. As if a flip had been turned off in her, Olivia had suddenly become distant.

He wonders if it still has anything to do with what had happened to Lucas, but that couldn't be because she had been okay yesterday and she had been okay this morning, happy even. But suddenly, she had closed off and he wanted to know why.

He reached over to place his palm on her cheek, forcing her to meet his eyes. "What's going on?"

Olivia shrugged his hand away, turning around to go back to the plant she had been tending to. "Nothing."

"You're lying."

She shook her head.

James let out another sigh, feeling as if he's back to zero with her again. He had only just gotten past her walls and she had only started to open up to him. Granted, she still hasn't mentioned anything about her family, but he's not about to push it. He's happy with what he's got.

He walked in front of her, seeing her unmoving eyes focused on the plant, her hands stiff on her sides.

"You can tell me anything, baby," he reassures her.

Olivia lifted her gaze, meeting his concerned hazel ones. "Can I?"

James nods his head. "I promise."

Olivia lets out a breath, leaning against the windowsill as she feels her legs become numb. "I did something."

"What is it?"

She studies James' face for a moment, admiring his beauty and wondering why he seems to be so hung up on her. A man like him can get whatever he wants, and for some odd reason, he wants her.

Sharp jawline and thin nose. Soft, plump lips and concerned hazel eyes. She wonders when he had become such a big part of who she is as a person that she feels as though he had left an imprint of his touch on her soul, one she can never shake off.

"I didn't mean to," she started, her eyes falling to the floor. "And I don't know how, but the s-snakes, the snakes in the orphanage, I could understand them."

"You're a parseltongue?" He asked in awe, knowing that even among wizards, being able to communicate with snakes is a very rare ability considering it's hereditary and often skips generations after generations. In fact, he's not quite sure if anyone alive has the ability. Who would have thought Olivia would?

"I don't know," she admits quietly. "I think so. They listened to me. I didn't think they would, but they did."

"What did you tell them?"

"I-I didn't mean to," she says again. "But I was so mad."

"You have to tell me what happened, baby," he says softly, hands reaching over to touch her shoulders.

"Five muggles," she say, so quietly that James had almost missed it. "Two adults, three children. Dead from a poisonous snake bite."

James was quick to catch on, letting go of her so quickly it's as if her skin is burning his fingers. "What did you do?"