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𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒

see, i was dead when i woke up this morning

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Girl,

With an accent of blood

Who speaks foreign tongues

Whose vowels are the sound of metal clasing

Warrior,

With fire in her veins

And armor beneath her skin

Who crushes the earth beneath her feet

Immortal,

Hair streaked with daggers

And iron filling her lungs

And each breath invitingly toxic

Princess,

With lips made of glass

And a voice cut from steel

Features born from thunder and battle

Heroine,

A grin made for war

And eyes flecked with ash

Striding, powerful, into the arms of death.

-- perhaps she will be the one you follow into battle [t.r]

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

𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 a hand to Seamus. He took it gratefully, looking a little out of it. His right leg gave as he steadied himself, to which Elara caught him. She placed his arm around her shoulder and began to help him towards the Great Hall. All around them were people helping the fallen or injured. She stared straight forwards as people shot her curious glances, no doubt wondering: Exactly how many has she killed?

She found she quite liked the feeling of being slightly feared, of being looked at as if she were treacherous.

The castle was unnaturally silent. There were no flashes of light now, no bangs or screams or shouts. The flagstones of the deserted entrance hall were stained with blood. Emeralds were still scattered all over the floor, along with pieces of marble and splintered wood. Part of the banisters had been blown away.

Elara stopped in the doorway of the Great Hall.

The House tables were gone and the room was crowded. The survivors stood in groups, their arms around each other's necks. The injured were being treated upon the raised platform by Madam Pomfrey and a group of helpers. Firenze was amongst the injured; his flank poured blood and he shook where he lay, unable to stand. The dead lay in a row in the middle of the Hall.

Dean and Aspen immediately came to Seamus's side and began leading him towards Madam Pomfrey. Elara started towards the middle of the Hall to learn who's dead when Ginny and Ron stopped her.

"Lara, you don't — "

Ron's sentence would forever remain unfinished as all noise was drowned out by the pounding of her heart. Dolohov said he'd killed Nymphie. Desperate to find if his words held truth, Elara stepped around the brother and sister and raced towards the middle of the Hall, weaving between the bereaved and the wounded.

She had a clear view of the bodies lying next to Lavender Brown: Nymphie and Remus, pale and still and peaceful-looking, apparently asleep beneath the dark, enchanted ceiling.

Nymphie's hair was still its bubble-gum pink. The world seemed to crumble as Elara's knees gave from under her. An arm caught her by the elbow and helped lower her to the ground gently. She couldn't have cared less if it was friend or foe. Noise was non-existent. Breath evaded her lungs.

It was difficult, at first, to truly grasp that her sister was gone. That was was never going to wake up. That Andromeda and Teddy were her only remaining family members. But when Elara reached a trembling hand out to touch Nymphie's arm, it was like wildfire. The god of wrath had taken a sword and plunged it deep into her heart, tearing her in two as they dragged the weapon down through her shaking body.

It was all her fault.

If she had told Nymphie to go home, if she had stayed with her this whole time, if she had been nicer, if she had spent more time with her, if she had killed Dolohov at the Ministry, if she had killed Dolohov at Tottenham Court Road, if she had been less forgiving in her youth, if she hadn't been so stupidly concerned with the Horcruxes.

Sobs violently racked Elara's body. Her vision was blurred as tears welled in her eyes and tracked down her bloodied and scarred face.

Arms wrapped around her back. She did not fight as she was pulled into the embrace of another. She did not look at her comforter. Her eyes were not averted away from her sister. How was it that so little time ago she valiantly battling, staring Death's henchmen in the eyes and forcing them onto their knees, and now she was reduced to a desolate state, crying over the dead body of her sister?

Inexplicably, a feeling of wrath that Elara had never experienced before fell over her. She forced herself out of the arms of her comforter and began making her way towards the entrance to the Great Hall. Those who stood in her path leapt out of her way, for they were not willing to disrupt the woman whose eyes were pure flame and whose body was sparking with the bloodlust of lightning.

Elara was forced out of her fury as a hand caught her arm. She whipped around and came face to face with Harry.

"Lara, look at me, and take a deep breath."

"They killed her," she snarled, trying to pull out of his grasp. "They will pay with their lives."

"Look at me."

The panic in Harry's voice forced her to meet his eyes. She never realized how strongly they reminded her of crystals.

"I promise you, they will pay, Lara." he comforted, subtly leading her away from the doors. "They will soon, but you need to be clear-minded before you go storming off into the Forbidden Forest. You don't want to do something you might regret."

"I've killed before," said Elara, her own voice sounding worlds away.

"Yes, you have," replied Harry, inching closer and closer to one of the tables pressed up against the wall, "you've saved so many lives, Lara, think of how many you could save if you stay here for now."

Cold wood met her legs as Harry lowered her onto the bench of a table.

"Do you think you can stay here and not start a massacre while I go to Dumbledore's office?"

"Why?"

"Snape's given me a memory."

"That bastard?"

"Voldemort killed him."

"Oh. Okay."

Elara's lips were moving on her own, saying words before she realized they were coming out of her mouth. Harry pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and began heading towards Dumbledore's office. Hermione and Ron immediately came by her side, perhaps to prevent her from succumbing to her bloodlust.

They tried talking to her, but their words fell on deaf ears. Elara stared straight ahead, mind and body numb with loss.

She hardly noticed that others had come over to offer their condolences or to thank her for her protection during the battle. None of that mattered much anyways. What good did her protection do if it couldn't help those close to her?

She had no idea how long she'd been sitting on that bench, staring at the opposite wall. A hand rested on Elara's knee that pulled her from her stupor. It was Corrine. She was battered and bruised. A trail of dried blood ran from her nose to her chin.

"Lara?" she asked, speaking gently and quietly. "Do you think you would be up to help Ollie and I find more injured and fallen?"

"Corrine," began Hermione, "I don't think — "

"Sure."

Elara's voice was raspy from unuse. She pushed herself off the bench and dazedly made her way to the exitway of the Great Hall. The castle was empty. She felt ghostly striding through it alone, as if she had already died. The portrait people were still missing from their frames; the whole place was eerily still, as if all its remaining lifeblood were concentrated in the Great Hall where the dead and the mourners were crammed.

She was wandering through the destroyed halls of Hogwarts castle, looking to find more injured or fallen to distract herself from the unimaginable grief she was enduring. All she had left was Andromeda and Teddy. Her heart and mind were tearing themselves in two. Half of her wanted to give up. To end her suffering. The other told her to keep moving. To keep fighting.

As she made her way down a flight of crumbled stairs, she was pulled into a niche.

She tried to scream, but the hand of Harry Potter covering her mouth coerced the sound dying in her throat. The Invisibility Cloak fell off the rest of his body. She began to ask what the hell he was doing and where the hell he'd been, but her time to do so was cut short by his lips on hers.

Elara never knew the Stars had a flavor until then.

Turns out, they taste like a bitter sweet symphony of all that was lost and found again. Like how justice loves to sit by and let the world run wild, like desperation and determination all the same. Her many questions of the future — the 'what ifs' and the 'what nows' — were sweetly forced into the back of her mind.

When he pulled away, Elara searched his eyes. Sorrow clutched onto his crystal green eyes. A bitter realization crashed over her.

"Harry James Potter, you will not go to him."

"He threatened to kill you, Lara," he whispered, voice cracking. "I can't let him do that."

She grabbed his arm.

"He can't — He won't. Listen, we'll figure it out — "

"No, Lara, I have to go — "

"You do that, you die!" she gritted out through clenched teeth.

"You don't understand. I have to go."

"What don't I understand?!" demanded Elara, not letting Harry pull out of her grasp. "What am I missing here?!"

"I can't — "

"Can't what — "

"I'm a Horcrux!" he blurted.

Elara dropped his arm, heart falling into her stomach.

"That — That doesn't make any sense."

"I know, and I don't really understand it either, but think about it, Lara. How am I able to see through his eyes? Why am I able to feel his emotions as if they were my own?"

Elara shook her head vehemently. "This — No. This — You're imagining this — "

"Lara, listen to me. If we're truly going to do this. If we're truly going to defeat him, I have to die."

"No," choked Elara, forcing her way through the lump in her throat, "Harry, I can't lose you too. There's got to be another way."

"There isn't."

Elara chewed on her lip and pressed the palms of her hands into her teary eyes.

"When I'm gone, Voldemort will come back here. I know he will. You've got to be the one to finish him off — "

"No, Harry, I can't, that's — that's your prophecy — "

"Prophecy be damned, Elara! You are the most awe-inspiring, terrifying, and powerful woman I know. You are the only person that can finally destroy him."

"Harry, I can't, I — " I'm supposed to die too " — Okay. All right. Fine."

"Don't tell anyone where I've gone."

"If — If you have to go — just — just know that I will always love you. Until the end of time."

Shakespeare lied. Parting was not such sweet sorrow. It was mutilation of the heart, mind, and soul.

"You made all this worth it," whispered Harry, pressing his forehead against hers, "I love you endlessly."

The Constellations had no mercy for her. She watched as one of the few she had left threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself and disappear from sight. She was destined to die, but when? Would she forever continue living without Ted, Nymphie, and Harry?

She wandered further into the castle, arms wrapped around herself. She happened upon Oliver and Neville, standing over the lifeless body of Colin Creevey. She glanced down and felt another dull blow to her stomach. Though underage, must have sneaked back just as Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle had done. He was tiny in death.

"You know what? I can manage him alone, Neville," said Oliver, and he heaved Colin over his shoulder in a fireman's lift and carried him into the Great Hall.

Neville glanced back over his shoulder to find Elara only yards away from him.

"How are you holding up?"

"Terrible."

"That's to be expected. Er, I'm going to start looking outside, if you want to join?"

"I think I'll stay here."

Neville nodded and awkwardly wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked like an old man. Then he set off down the steps again into the darkness to recover more bodies.

Elara took one glance back at the entrance of the Great Hall. People were moving around, trying to comfort each other, drinking, kneeling beside the dead, but she could not see any of the people she loved, no hint of Hermione, Ron, Ginny, or any of the other Weasleys, no Luna.

Sighing, she turned and retreated further back into the castle.

Walls were rubble. Blood streaked the floor. The shadows Elara had gotten so skilled at ignoring swirled in the dark corners. They seeped through the crushed remains of the old stone walls of Hogwarts. The vehement whispers of their everlasting desire for blood filled her ears as she searched the halls. No matter how much she might want to give into their demands, she resisted.

She had no idea if Harry was in the Forbidden Forest or if he was still at Hogwarts. The dull pain in her forehead and the sharpness of cuts that weren't there told her he was still alive. Elara came across Anthony Goldstein sitting on the destroyed marbled staircase, the palms of his hands pressing into his eyes. Silently, she took a seat beside him.

"I heard," he said, clearing his throat. "I'm really sorry."

Elara sighed. "Thanks."

They were silent. There was nothing to say. She had no idea what Anthony had endured during the battle. It was four in the morning and they had been fighting for four hours. The air no longer smelled of the familiar sweetness of Hogwarts, instead the air was tinged with smoke and dust.

"Everyone's gathered in the Great Hall, if you need to get anything healed. . . ."

Anthony nodded and stood up, wiping his hands on his jacket, ridding them of dirt. Elara moved on, poking her head into the destroyed and empty classrooms. Once happy memories that were now tainted with melancholy played before her mind's eye. The excitement before a Quidditch match, eating in the Great Hall, stolen moments with Harry, wreaking havoc with Fred, George, and Aurora.

The farther she retreated into the castle, the more strength it took to continue on.

The next corridor she happened upon held no one but Draco in its halls. She moved towards him. He dazedly looked over at her before resuming his stare at the opposite wall.

"You said you can protect me."

"Yeah. . . . ?"

"Can you still?"

"You've made your decision?"

"I have. Please, Elara, help me."

She nodded, opening her mouth to speak. Her sentence was interrupted by the sudden vanishing of pain that wasn't hers. Harry had done what he'd gone to do. Elara drew in a great shuddering breath, forcing herself to carry on, to not raise any suspicions.

"I will. No matter what happens, you're safe."

Draco nodded and stood up, wiping his trousers free of dust.

"What made you change your mind?" asked Elara, working through the lump in her throat.

"I used to think that you were only extending the olive branch as some sort of trick. I'd been force fed the idea that you were going to destroy everything I loved and believed it until you almost killed yourself in the Room of Requirement without another thought."

"I'm glad the accumulation of all my dances with Death convinced you to see the right side."

". . . . It wasn't just that, if I'm being honest."

"What else?"

"It was Jane, Jane Lancaster."

"The one you kept in your basement?"

"I didn't exactly have a choice with that one."

Elara forced out a laugh, hoping to convince Draco that everything was all right.

"She caught me before I followed you into the Room of Requirement. She told me that I had a choice. . . . and reminded me of other things."

"Like what?"

An aching fell over Elara. A pain in her abdomen bloomed as if she'd been hit with an iron-clad punch. A sharp sensation pressed into her temple. Surely Harry wasn't — ?

"It's too personal."

"Draco," whispered Elara, forcing off the cloudiness in her head, "Need I remind you that I literally cried in front of you in this very corridor?"

"Oh," he replied, gazing around, "I barely recognize it."

"Of course you don't, dipshit. We should get you to the Great Hall — "

"With everybody else?"

"You were just a kid when you joined Voldemort. He threatened you and your family. Surely, they'll understand."

Draco nodded. They were silent as they entered the Great Hall. It took everything in Elara not to run to the courtyard and wait for Voldemort. Greeted by stares, Elara led Draco to the Weasleys. They looked upon him with scorn.

"He's with us," reassured Elara. "Listen, his family's lives were threatened. He treated me with kindness when I was kept at Malfoy Manor. I expect you all to treat him kindly, too."

"Malfoy — or do you prefer Draco?" asked Aurora, standing up from her spot besides George.

"Either is fine," he mumbled.

"It's my shift to look after the injured, would you like to help?"

"Okay."

George did not look quite happy as Draco and Aurora made their way to Madam Pomfrey, who handed them rags and small bottles.

"Elara, why the hell — "

"I told you, Ron. I know he's been a dick the past seven years, but he's never had a family like you do. Just, please, promise me you'll treat him like a brother?"

Taken aback at Elara's usage of the word 'please', Ron nodded.

"You know, you're still sparking, Lara," said Clover, gesturing at the little bolts of lightning, hungrily running over her skin.

"Am I?"

"What should we do now, Lara?" asked Fred. "Everyone's waiting for your command."

"I will be in the courtyard, waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"For the final battle."

The top of the sun ever so slightly peeked out from above the rolling hills of the English Countryside. Elara sat, perched upon a piece of jagged stone that lay at the top of the stairs leading out into the courtyard, staring at the Forbidden Forest. Her mind raced with a thousand possibilities.

Harry was alive. She was sure of it. That meant that he would still be the one to defeat Voldemort, and that she was to weaken him, to save the lives of the living. There came no new pains. She'd made the assumption that Harry was playing dead to avoid being killed again. She had no time to obsess over how the hell he'd survived the Killing Curse twice as she knew her own time was running short.

The lightning over her skin was moving rapidly, sending shivers down her war-torn spine.