｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

"lift with your knees, atlas

the heavens are a burden

but in the starlit ink of

constellations

you have written:

endure"

— weight - a.j.

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

"𝐍𝐎𝐖, 𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐀, 𝐈 have a proposition for you."

Vocal chords ripped to shreds, Elara glowered at Voldemort. Whatever deal he had, she would rather throw herself into an erupting volcano than take it. He could offer her a million dollars, to let her go, to throw himself into an erupting volcano, she would refuse. There was nothing he could offer her in a million universes that would even make her consider taking his offer.

"You and I could achieve great things if we worked together."

This again.

"I have already pushed the boundaries of greatness. I have immortality in my grasp. . . . but there are things I cannot do without your added power. I offered you this once before, and usually I am not a man who asks twice. So, Elara Callisto Tonks, will you join me? Will you further push the limits of all that is possible?"

Elara's features were pulled into a look of disgust. She said nothing.

"With you, I can harness the power of the shadows I know you see. . . . I can make them into my soldiers, fighting without question, their loyalty never wavering."

Uninterested in the deal, Elara's gaze flickered around the room. There were people here that weren't here before. Dolohov, Macnair, and worsley, Wortail. The short man cowered behind Draco as he felt Elara's murderous eyes upon him. A small feeling of triumph washed over Elara to see that Wormtail was still a coward.

"If you join me, Elara, we will become gods." finished Voldemort.

This new revelation caught Elara's attention.

"To become god is the loneliest achievement of them all."

Her voice was raspy and hoarse, but her words were clear. They hung in the afternoon air as the bleak sun filtered through the large widows, casting light on floating dust particles. Voldemort laughed.

"You misunderstand me, Elara."

She was certain she hadn't.

"Becoming god outweighs the lonely path. Ultimate power, the ability to guide life any way you want it, shape reality into your desires, invulnerability. . . . to only becoming stronger and stronger, unable to be defeated.

"I will only ask once more, Elara, will you join me in fighting the gods for absolute power?"

"I will never be your chosen one. You can tempt me all you want, but I would rather spit my own blood a thousand times over than wear your broken crown," spat Elara, ignoring the burning pain in her throat. "The gods are dead and we will soon follow."

"A shame," said Voldemort, sounding not at all disappointed.

On cue, Wormtail scurried forward and rebound Elara's hands. She made no effort in standing up or fighting as she was dragged through the halls and down the stairs. Blood followed after her in streaks, tainting the once pristine marble floor. His cold metal hand gripped Elara's arm tightly, sending sparks of pain down her arms whenever he would shift his grip.

As she lay in that pathetic state, Elara once again founding her thoughts drifting over to Harry. The amount of pain he had to be feeling could not be easy on him. Even as her own blood dripped out of the blasphemous word etched upon her skin, her only thoughts were of him.

You are the sweetest symphony of hope there ever was.

She was thrown back into the cell without so much as another look as Wormtail cowered back into the darkness, scurrying away and back to his master.

In an instant, Dean and Luna were at Elara's side, carrying her back to her spot near the tiny window in which little light trickled in. Jane began the all too familiar routine of bandaging the newest wound. Since January, she had gotten much better at cleaning and covering gashes and cuts.

"What the hell happened this time?" mumbled Dean, watching Jane work.

Elara shook her head. Any spoken word would betray her torn vocal chords.

"You are a peculiar witch, Tonks," voiced Griphook.

He had barely uttered four words since their first interaction. And even now, as he observed Elara from his shadowed corner, it seemed that even this was said in distaste.

"At any point in the last two months, you could have pinned the daily on us. And here you are, suffering, miserable, carrying the full brunt of their anger."

"Would you rather I not?" rasped Elara.

Griphook smiled, pointy teeth on full display.

"By all means, continue on."

Jane grumbled vehemently under her breath at Griphook's words. Unwilling and unable to argue, Elara rested her head against the old stone wall, staring up at the moldy ceiling. A lit lantern hung from the cracked stone. It could serve better purposes. The flame was emitting almost no light.

"Jane, wait — "

"Is something wrong?" wondered Luna, her eyes drifting over to the two girls.

"Someone get the lantern down."

Rather bemused by the oddity of the request, Jane frowned.

"Elara, a lantern won't do you any good. You need medical attention."

However, Luna, an odd person herself, had already stood and unhooked the lantern from the ceiling and set it beside Elara. The little warmth that the flame radiated provided Elara an infinitesimal amount of strength.

It was better than nothing.

"Luna, take out the candle," urged Elara, "and set me on fire."

Luna paused.

"Did a nargle get you?"

"Please."

"Elara — "

"I need you to trust me."

Jane and Luna both shared an indecipherable look before Luna complied. The flame came in contact with Elara's shirt. She exhaled as the flame grew around her quickly, enveloping her in it's ethereal rage. As it had done when she was in the hearth, the flames fed her energy. She could see Dean, Luna, Jane, Ollivander, and Griphook transfixidely staring, beyond horrified.

She no longer felt the old wound that had been plaguing her leg. Finally, the two month old gash subsided.

February bled into early March. The dungeon became only slightly warmer, gracing the motley crew with nights devoid of shivering mercilessly in the cold. Elara, after regaining some of her strength from the lantern, decided to play rabbit. She would go 'unconscious' after only a few seconds of the Cruciatus Curse, thus effectively storing bits of energy.

Sometimes, a mundane pain that wasn't hers would appear in her foot or finger. As twisted as it would seem to others, Elara welcomed these. These pains told her Harry was still alive. If she hadn't just been subjected to a torturing, she would rap her bound knuckles against the rough stone, alerting Harry that she too was alive.

Draco had become bolder in his provisions. He had even managed to find and sneak Iodine down into the dungeon. Instead of the usual slices of bread, he had begun bringing down fruits daily. Once, he had managed to sneak an entire rack of ribs down into the cell. Theorize as much as they could, Dean, Jane, and Elara were unable to figure out how he did it. That night was also the closest Elara had come to laughing in the months she'd been trapped there.

Despite her dire situation somewhat looking up, Elara felt a dull weight in her chest. No matter if she had slept that entire night or if she'd just eaten, it remained. It became more difficult to find the energy to fight the hungry darkness that sat, waiting, to drag her to Death. Waking up became a chore. Every time she grew aware of her surroundings after a night's rest, she became more and more unwilling to open her eyes. Even shifting to get into a more comfortable position seemed daunting.

She missed when breathing came easy and didn't take copious amounts of energy.

As the days progressed, she began to notice that her visions had stopped coming. That seemed to be the worst of all. The feeling of being completely and utterly helpless, devoid of strength or energy. Days became bleeker and weird things like food had lost its taste. Slowly, she stopped talking. Rarely would she utter a few words, to which Dean, Jane, and Luna would latch onto, using them to try and pull her out from the dark.

When she was not being tortured, Elara sat, propped against the old stone wall, hands bound, staring straight ahead. Any noise or words were muffled by the utter silence in her mind.

On nights where rest did not come easy, which seemed to be almost every damned night, Elara would lull herself to sleep by telling herself stories of a life where she was never forced to fight. Her favorite story was of a world in which Voldemort did not exist, no prophecy existed with her name etched upon it's label, no fire constantly begged to pour out of her hands. A world in which she was not forced to carry the weight of the universe on her tired shoulders. One where Dumbledore was still headmaster, where Harry had no scar, where she was Andromeda's and Ted's biological daughter, where Nymphie was her sister by blood.

It seemed that she just couldn't win.

Elara was no idiot. She noticed the worried glances Jane and Dean exchanged, that Luna had moved right next to Elara so as to keep an eye on her, that Ollivander began speaking in a more encouraging tone, and the Griphook had ceased to poke at Elara's decisions.

She was sick of being stared at with pity.

One sleepless night, Draco entered the cell with an overabundance of food and bandages.

"You look like shit," he whispered so as to not wake the sleeping.

"Wow, thanks."

The pair were silent as Draco hid the supplies in and under anything he could find.

"I need to speak to Aunt Cissa."

He paused. "Why?"

"It's important."

"You're too weak to move," he protested, "let alone sneak around. Besides, if you get caught — "

"Well, 'we', because you're going to be helping me."

" — then we'll both be in serious danger."

"Remember what Dumbledore said about me before he died?"

Draco's mouth fell open as he stared at her.

"You — "

"I need to speak with Aunt Cissa."

He chewed on his lip before answering. "Fine."

As quietly as they possibly could, Draco helped Elara up and out the cell door. They journeyed through the corridor and through the cold, empty halls of Malfoy Manor. Elara had no idea where Aunt Cissa was and begrudgingly put all her faith in Draco to not get their asses killed.

It seemed like no one was up.

Elara had no idea if Aunt Cissa was awake or if she would even speak to her. Elara had a difficult time imagining a situation in which Aunt Cissa would talk to her, but she had to try. If she could do no else while held captive in the manor, she could get information on the day of her birth. Snape said there was a call, a force, and a figure.

Far be it from Elara to trust Severus Snape.

Draco supported Elara up two extra flights of stairs before they stopped at a double glass door that lead out onto a balcony. He opened the door and a refreshing rush of air slammed Elara. She had become so used to the stale cellar air that this felt like she was truly breathing for the first time.

"Draco?" whispered Aunt Cissa. "Elara? What are you doing?"

"I have some questions," replied Elara, allowing Draco to help her into the extra chair, "about the day of my birth."

Under the moonlight, Aunt Cissa paled.

"What happened that day?"

"Listen, Elara. I don't think it's — "

Elara sighed. "I already know."

They fell silent. Aunt Cissa seemed rather conflicted as Elara stared her down. The fresh air gave her some of her lost strength back.

". . . . I'll never forget it," whispered Aunt Cissa. "There was a call. It was panic-inducing and comforting all at the same time. I — I was the only one who was able to hear it. You don't understand, Elara, I thought I was going insane. . . ."

A slight breeze flew across the balcony.

"What about the figure?" asked Elara.

"How did you know about that?"

She shrugged.

"My panic increased ten-fold when I realized no one saw apparition of the woman in the room, either. . . . Everything became too much when The Dark Lord couldn't even get within ten feet of you without being severely burned."

"Burned by what?"

"I truly don't know."

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

AUTHORS NOTE:

— my body literally fucking hates me

legit i was up all night fuckin THROWING

UP for no reason like???? bitch i don't

even have a fever???????

Written: December 9, 2020

Published: December 9, 2020