Shadow and Flame

The Ways to Die

Professor Mcgonnagal met him on the edge of the wood, away from prying eyes.

She slept peacefully, as the professor bent down and studied her.

"You've found her, I see."

"And I'm taking her home. With me."

The elderly woman gave no initial signs of protest. He elaborated.

"She'll be safe there. My cottage is remote. And if she prefers to return to her other form, she'll have protection."

"And Mr. Bennett?"

"She says he's dead."

"Then let us hope the secret died with him."

He squinted. "You won't report her?"

The professor wiped her eyes beneath the lenses.

"Unless you discover that she committed any  crimes of her own volition, no one else needs to know what this woman is capable of."

"And the vials?"

"I destroyed them not long after you left." He smirked, brows twitching. How unlike the stern woman he was once taught under. He had such a remark on the tip of his tongue when she waved them off.

"Now go. Before you're seen."

-

The mouthwatering scent of bread urged her awake. Lips parched, she wavered.

Where am I?

She rubbed her eyes, stretching out on... patting sheets she lifted herself up. She lay on a bed in a small bedroom. A cracked window let in a gentle breeze, curtains dancing.

Sitting up, she patted herself down. Was this a man's shirt? It hung from her like a loose dress.

She recalled those final moments in the wood. Warm eyes like chocolate. Red hair, long and unruly.

She remembered the last word. A bewitchment to sleep. Stretching, she wasn't sure if she should be mad or thank him. It must've been the best sleep she'd ever had.

But where am I now?

She stepped toward the window.

The door creaked open, and she jumped back against the nearest wall. The man stood under the frame. She readied herself to jump out the window and fly away.

"Now that you're awake, I'll draw you a bath."

"Where have you brought me?" But he simply headed back into the rest of the living. She stumbled, following curiously after him.

She didn't have to go far. The rest of the cottage was as big as the room she'd just left. He fussed with water in the bath, as she looked around the small kitchen.

When was the last time she'd been in a house?

He came back, and she straightened.

"I've sent for some clothes for you. They should be arriving today. After your bath, you can join me for breakfast."

"Where am I?"

He gave a nonchalant shrug. "I can't see past the mess on your head formally known as hair."

Her eyes narrowed. She stomped over to the bathroom, reaching for a lock that wasn't there.

"You expect me to wash in a room you can easily enter?"

"Wouldn't be seeing anything new there, Eden." He smirked. "But you've my word, I'll let you be."

"Whatever that's worth." She spat out. She opened her mouth to pester him with questions. He seemed to sense this, holding up a hand.

"Bath first. Then breakfast. And maybe after some answers."

Her grumbling stomach won over any urge to argue.

She huffed, slamming the door and yanking off what she assumed to be his shirt. Crouching into warm water, her tense body eased.

She examined her chipped nails, gripping onto a homemade bar of lavender. Rubbing her body down, she felt the smoothness of her own skin and the places where her bones poked through.

The frailty of this form, this body, it haunted her. Ducking her hair under the surface of the water, she held her breath thinking of all the easy ways she could die.

Drowning seemed to be right within her grasp.

It'd been the only thing to occupy her thoughts of late. And yet, she'd remained a dragon. Cowardice.

Wrapped in a towel; she stared at the cracked mirror. That innocent school girl with so much potential was long gone. In her place stood this foreigner. Older. Smaller. And more frightened than ever before.