The Girl Who Lived

Lies

Draco Malfoy sat quietly in the meadow where he and Elena Clairmont had shared small moments- moments that he wouldn't allow himself to speak out loud.

He hated her with everything he was but when he had realized how difficult it must have been to actually admit so much she had said, he swore he wouldn't speak it.

She was gone for the entire weekend, off with Harry Potter to London. She had gone to see her family- how fucking wonderful.

Never had he been so bored in his life. Without either of his favorite targets here, who would he taunt? Make miserable?

He had tried to make fun of Hermione Granger who had been walking near the Black Lake with Ron Weasley but it wasn't the same. She didn't fight back, she only rolled her eyes and went back to listening to Weasley.

Although he wanted to knock himself senseless for it, he wondered about Elena Clairmont- where exactly she was, what she was doing, why she hadn't shown him her back.

That last question had lingered in his head for an entire day. There must be a reason. She said she hadn't wanted to remember the pain but what was that even supposed to mean? He groaned and slumped back against the tree he had climbed and laid on.

Draco wanted to lay on the snow but it somehow had felt wrong for him to lay there without her infuriating presence, spitting back insults.

He couldn't help but remember what she smelled like, even if she was nothing more than Mudblood filth.

Jasmine, snow and fire, crackling fire.

Like the fire she held in her gaze.

For even thinking of her, he hit his head back onto the tree, pain shooting through his skull.

There was worse pain to endure.

____

From the day she was born, Elena Jean Clairmont had always sensed a deeper power within herself.

Not only the magic she was gifted with but a simmering power. All this time, it had remained a tiny afterthought, never to see the light or be thought about. Until she felt the power pour through her veins, filling her, becoming her.

Even in the depths of green within her eyes, the golden power had begun to rage, pounding on the vision, on her mind and soul to be released- unleashing upon everything that had ever wronged her.

Her wrath met the raw power and became one- Merlin, help those who wrong Elena Clairmont.

Elena had not noticed the ice forming around her heart, soul, mind as she prowled among the grounds of Hogwarts for short moments, keeping an eye out of a pale head of hair.

What she had noticed, was the stares. The whispering. The name calling, Gods above.

Although she heard it, she didn't pause to scowl. She didn't listen to them, not with the roaring in her hearing. Her face remained of stone, untelling and unreadable with every trembling breath she took.

For a moment, she let herself listen to the whispers. "Malfoy's harlot."

Her hands shook, just barely as she tightened the belt of knives along her waist.

Gasps flittered the air and the whispering grew into muffled conversations. Without a thought, she left the halls and went straight towards a group of Slytherins she recognized too well.

Pansy Parkinson was leaning against the stone wall, hands crossed over her chest as if she was waiting. Waiting for Elena. Her short black hair bristled as she scowled, a snarl ripping from her lips, her eyes following the tall young woman coming right to her and her friends.